


All About Us

by IlanaNight



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/F, Fic, Friends to Lovers, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, both ships are eventual as this is a, characters in order of appearance, demisexual bill is my life, middle schoolers are asshats, rethinks that whole no magic thing, there's magic just not canon level magic, time spanned: age 5~mid 20s, tw: underaged drinking, ummm hmmmm, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 22:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 44,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4155684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IlanaNight/pseuds/IlanaNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When your best friend is your only friend, it's really hard to know if what you feel for him is more than just friendly. Or know how to act on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Psycho Cipher

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~ The BillDip in this fic is very eventual, like many chapters from now. But I hope you enjoy the friendship building in the meantime <3

At the age of five, Bill Cipher developed an extremely strange habit.

Rather than simply flashing a smile at passerby, he stared at them, face split by a toothy grin. For the first few seconds it was ‘cute’ or ‘endearing’, but after a while it got really unnerving, and nothing could convince him to stop. It wasn’t even just directed at strangers, he greeted his classmates and teachers with the same perturbing grin. 

He didn’t mean to be frightening, really, he just had no other example to go off. His mother had told him once that people liked you more if you smiled, so he put every effort into always smiling- people had to like him then.

But his well-thought out plan, seemingly foolproof to the boy just stumbling out of toddler years into school, failed miserably.

Parents shooed their children away from him, whispering behind their hands and shooting him dirty looks. Sometimes, the words drifted over to Bill’s ears, though he never understood them.

“Ugh, it’s that psycho Cipher kid, don’t let Annie play with him. He’ll probably kill her or something, look at that face.” And not a single mother in the circle disagreed. Bill’s mother was out of town again, she wasn’t a part of their group, she couldn’t defend her eccentric son from across the country or wherever she was now.

Eventually, the name caught on, once the kids could pronounce it anyway. By third grade it was all anyone ever called him, really, almost like a nickname. That was how he justified it to himself and it fell off him like droplets of water. Cipher was his name, if they wanted to make something out of it, that was their choice. He didn’t have to respond to it.

He was better than whatever words they threw at him. He would be someone someday. All on his own.

It was a little harder when the words turned to actions, of course. He couldn’t just ignore the hands that pushed him into walls or down the shorter flights of stairs, couldn’t will away the pain from scraped knees and bruised elbows. For months, violence was the best answer for his abusers, sixth graders shoving him up against lockers to hear the yelps of pain, to see the tears stinging at the edges of his eyes. But eventually he stopped reacting even to that.

They could never win if he didn’t take part in the fight. They were beneath him, they were nothing. He would leave them all behind and be someone.

By the time seventh year rolled around, he had decided to embrace his age-old nickname. Psycho Cipher indeed, a push into the lockers earnt his tormentors only a flash of the old grin that earned him the name to begin with. A trip down the stairs- a high pitched cackle that echoed through the hallways. Pain didn’t hurt as much if you made it funny instead.

All but the largest bullies stayed away from him after that, looking down and avoiding eye contact. He’d come full circle, the sheep avoided Psycho Cipher now, not because their parents told them to, but because it was the safest choice. 

At age twelve, Bill Cipher still hadn’t quite hit his growth spurt yet, but he didn’t let that stop him from grinning at himself in the mirror each morning. He’d seen pictures of his father, and his mother came home often enough for him to know her face. They were both beautiful people, and that meant he would be beautiful too. He just had to wait for the right day.

There was a fine line between self-confidence and vanity, and at the age of twelve, Bill Cipher walked it. Better to hold himself with an over-confident pride than let his ‘peers’ words get to him. He didn’t need them, he didn’t need friends or acquaintances. He was making it all by himself, just like he promised he would, and nothing they said could change that. 

Of course, there were occasional periods of reprieve. New students were more fun to torment than the small blonde psychopath, apparently, at least for a time. They reacted with anger or with fear and drew laughs from the tormentors, and Bill offered them a hand up without explanation. He couldn’t afford to make friends with them, but he could help them up, it didn’t cost him anything.

Friendship, though, was a risk he was done trying for. Because inevitably, the new students realised that he was an outcast and that siding against him was for the better. There was strength in numbers, and numbers didn’t generally include him. But he was used to it, and it was better this way. It was easier to be better than the rest of them when he was separate from them.

News traveled fast in Gravity Falls, no one could move here without the whole town knowing within four hours, and that was especially true in the school system. With so few students, new faces stuck out like sore thumbs. And this time, they were twins, double the bait for the student body’s collective abuse. Bill almost felt bad for them, almost.

Their suffering would end soon.

Even so, when a group of eighth graders threw one of the twins in the hall trash can, Bill was there to tug him out, his trademark grin not present on his face for once. Whoever this boy was, he hadn’t earnt that just yet, but Bill was sure he would some day. His job done, he turned on a heel, leather soles sliding nearly soundlessly across the linoleum as he began to walk off.

“Hey, wait! Slow down, why don’t you?” The squeaking of rubber told him that the boy was running after him but Bill didn’t stop, continuing down the stage as if he hadn’t heard. Of course, the difference in pace had the boy coming up to stop in front of him, blocking his way, “Hello? Can you hear me? Why did you help me and just walk away?”

“Because that’s what I do. And I have books to return to the library, so if you’ll excuse me,” and Bill made a move to attempt to get around the dark haired boy, but the boy put his arms out, effectively stopping all movement. “Really, I have to return these. They’re due today.”

But his deadpan reasoning was met with a harsh, determined stare, “Not so fast. You can’t just help someone and walk away without giving a name, it’s rude. And don’t you at least want a thank you?”

“Not really, no. Thank yous mean nothing in the long run, and I don’t care much what others think of me. Maybe it’s rude, but it’s not as rude as leaving you to get out of that trash can yourself, right? Now, since you got your answers, can I please go? The library closes at five,” Bill started forward again, but the other boy stopped him, arms crossed over his chest and the blond sighed, “What is it?”

“Can’t you at least tell me your name? I don’t want to just see you around and think ‘oh it’s the boy who pulled me out of the trash can’, though that’s not the worst thing to think of someone. But, I like to call people by their names, makes making friends a lot easier,” and the boy flashed a smile, looking almost shy.

Rolling his eyes, Bill pushed past the other boy one final time, making it around him and quickening his pace. He called over his shoulder, though, never one to leave a question unanswered, “The name’s Bill Cipher, Pine Tree. And we’re not gonna be friends.”

“Pine Tree? H-hey, my name’s Dipper! And… what do you mean?”

But Bill was already out the front doors of the school, whistling to himself.


	2. A Test of Wills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The immortal game of dodgeball changes the course of Bill and Dipper's relationship.

Bill preferred to eat lunch outside, even when it rained. It was much more peaceful out here than it ever was in the crowded cafeteria. And really, he enjoyed the feeling of the cool, slightly wet breeze blowing his hair back out of his face. His eyes slipped closed, one visible, the other concealed behind the fringe of hair that was perpetually parted over the left side, enjoying the moment.

 

“Dipper! I found him! You said he was ‘blond and mysterious’, right?” A high-pitched voice interrupted his thoughts, and the visible eye opened to reveal a pale blue iris, eye narrowed in annoyance. There, running toward him from the school building, was an unfamiliar girl in a bright pink sweater, dragging behind her the boy he’d pulled from the trash yesterday.

 

“I did _not_ describe him like that, Mabel!” He countered as the twins got closer; they began to bicker and Bill sighed. So much for his peace and quiet, it seemed.

 

“What does it matter how anyone described me? Does it affect why you’re here? Or are you just here to pester me?” Bill looked up at them both, expression blank.

 

“W-well, we were thinking, or, well, I was, no, we were thinking, maybe-”

 

“We’re sitting here, with you, for lunch! Hi, I’m Mabel,” the sister interrupted Dipper’s stuttering by firmly planting herself on the ground in front of him and holding a hand out to him, “Your name is Bill, right? You saved my little brother, that’s so cool!”

 

Before Bill could even process the first sentence, Mabel was off on a tangent, and he simply stared at her for a moment before giving up on the flow of conversation and turning back to his sandwich, picking at it idly. His eye only flicked up for a moment when Dipper sat down as well, noticeably less valiant than his sister.

 

Without turning to look at the dark haired boy, Bill spoke with little inflection, “Why are you here? If you think sitting with me will protect you, you’re wrong. If anyone sees either of you here, they’ll be doing more than tossing you in trash cans. There’s nothing to be gained from sitting with me.”

 

“You said we weren’t going to be friends, but you know nothing about me, so there is something to be gained. There’s something to be gained in proving you wrong, so we are going to be friends.” It seemed he’d gotten over his initial anxiety, as the stutter in his voice was smoothing out to something more akin to the determination Bill had faced in the hall yesterday. But the words only had the blond boy sighing and rolling his eyes.

 

“Whatever you say, Pine Tree. Whatever you say.” Dipper looked ready to begin another speech about rudeness or something of the like, but the bell rang, and Bill began to pack up his half-eaten lunch, “I’ve got gym, I need to be going.”

 

“Oh, hey, me too. I’ll walk with you. Mabel, you can make it to your class, right?” And the dark haired boy was flashing him another one of those smiles before looking to his sister, who had already spotted her new friends and was running toward them with a squeal, “I guess so.”

 

Stuff packed away, Bill stood, not bothering to wait for Dipper, though their strides were about matched, and thus, the other boy kept pace easily. The walk to class, at least, wasn’t plagued with questions. Either Dipper had noticed Bill wasn’t in a talking mood, or, more likely, the other boy was rethinking his idea about being friends. Yes, likely the latter.

 

It was already quite loud in the locker room, the more boisterous boys having just come in from intramural football or whatever it was they’d been playing on the field. Bill simply shouldered through them without sparing another glance and found a spot of bench in front of his locker. He didn’t notice as Dipper followed behind him, but turned to raise an eyebrow when he opened the unlocked locker to Bill’s left.

 

“They just told me to pick one. I’m new here, remember?”

 

Shrugging, the blond boy accepted that before pulling his shirt off and jostling his hair, forgetting for a moment that there was one person in the room who would react with surprise to the eyepatch beneath his fringe. But the gasp of shock reminded him and he sighed, already prepared for the questions, “I was camping and got mauled by a bobcat as a child. It clawed my eye so badly it had to be removed. And no, you can’t see it.”

 

“...Oh, man. I’m sorry about that. On the plus side, though, the whole eyepatch thing is cool.” A nervous laugh and silence followed that as both boys changed, Dipper with self-conscious glances and Bill with uncaring grace. Just another facet of his separation that he didn’t compare himself to the bodies around him.

 

But as they were walking out into the gym, Bill’s mouth was twisted into a little smirk, “Thanks.”

 

The first positive response he’d gotten shocked Dipper, and he was left standing there for a moment before running after the other boy, a wide grin on his face. He caught up with Bill just as they crossed the gym threshold, just in time to hear the sigh escape the other boy, and one look into the room confirmed the reason.

 

The gym was set up for a class-wide game of dodgeball, a nightmare for the bottom-feeders.

 

Dread settled in the pit of Dipper’s stomach, but, when he looked over at Bill, the blond just looked depressingly bored, almost disappointed. This happened often enough to have gotten mundane years ago.

 

“Fall in line, we’re picking teams!” The coach-turned-teacher selected two of the boys from the earlier football match to pick teams, and the selection-turned-popularity contest began, athletes going first and then everyone else being divided by social constructs. The cruelty of middle school left Bill and Dipper to be split, both team captains grumbling at being given the weakest links, but Bill simply shrugged.

 

“I’d stay in the back if I were you. They smell fresh blood, and if you’re not careful, that won’t be a metaphor for long,” the smirk on Bill’s face made Dipper question if he was serious or if it was just some dark sense of humour, but he’d already disappeared into the other team, and Dipper ran back from the line just as the whistle was blown, balls flying nearly instantly.

 

Bill hadn’t been wrong when he said they’d single him out, but Dipper was small enough to dodge the balls thrown at him, even if it meant tripping and falling a couple of times to get out of the way, which seemed to be enough to earn the laughter of the other team. And when he looked up from his dodging, he noticed that Bill’s situation was no better, but that he seemed to be viciously enjoying himself. There was an empty quality to his visible eye, but his mouth was stretched wide in a grin that showed off his teeth as he danced from side to side, using people as shields and earning just as many hisses from his own team as Dipper’s.

 

Bill Cipher was on his own team for this game, and it looked like he was winning.

 

A ball rolled past Dipper, and he snagged it, wanting what would probably be his only chance to try to get someone out. Bill met his eye and that grin fell for a moment to be replaced with the little smirk from earlier, and Dipper smiled in response. Maybe they were on the same team after all.

 

Just as he was getting ready to throw, an arm came around his shoulder, “Ey, Pines. Saw you talking to Psycho Cipher earlier. You two pals?” Before Dipper could shrug him off or properly react to the nickname, the taller boy’s smile turned downright malicious, “Bet if you threw it he wouldn’t see it coming. You’d be the team’s hero if you nailed him, Pines. And I’d tell all the guys to lay off you. Promise.”

 

And with that, he pulled away, though that smile remained on his face. Dipper was frozen in thought, eyes searching out Bill, who was indeed focused on players that weren’t him. Everyone was Bill’s opponent on this course, but he hadn’t expected that Dipper would get ahold of one of the rubber balls. And for a moment, Dipper was tempted, he didn’t want to be thrown into any more trash cans.

 

But Bill’s little smirk flashed into his mind, the one that had already been wiped away by the empty grin, and it was accompanied by a snippet of voice, “We’re not gonna be friends,” Bill’s voice repeated in his mind, and Dipper knew that if he threw the ball at Bill, that would be true. And so he turned and threw it with all his might at the other team’s captain, nailing him in the side.

 

And he almost thought he heard a shouted ‘Good shot, Pine Tree!’ over the combined angry yells of both teams, his own for his betrayal and the other for the loss of their captain.

 

“Missed your chance, Pines. And for what? That piece of shit faggot? Bet you’re just like him.” The voice that had whispered so kindly moments before was hissing at him now, clearly angry at being defied, but Dipper was too ecstatic to care, already falling back into the pattern of running to dodge the balls that were coming at him twice as hard now.

 

How funny would it be that they’d end the game staring each other down, Bill’s one blue eye meeting Dipper’s brown, and the coach yelling at them to end it already. Bill shrugged, tossing a ball up into the air, and, catching on to his plan, Dipper did the same. When both caught the other’s ball, they were each declared out and no team got to claim a victory.

 

Well, no team but theirs, that is. And the smile on Bill’s face was victorious now, even as hands shoved him into the doorjamb and people hissed insults at him from all sides.

 

“You just can’t accept that I’m better than all of you. But, some day, you’ll all see, this was only the beginning of your ultimate destruction. I hope you’re prepared.”

 

The victorious smile lingered on Bill’s face as they changed back into their old clothes and he adjusted his eyepatch. Without looking over, he spoke just loud enough to be heard, “You gave up your ticket to freedom today with that game, they’re going to come at you twice as hard now.”

 

“Yeah, well that’s what friends are for. I wasn’t gonna throw a ball at my only friend, now, was I?”

 

And, for a moment, the mischief faded from Bill’s smile, leaving only an almost confused expression as he turned the word over in his mind. Friends. He’d never had a friend, he didn’t really know what it entailed, but he’d forfeited his chance to win the game today in order to tie with Dipper, and yeah, that had been in part to flip the bird to both of the team captains, but he’d also felt a bite of excitement in his chest when Dipper got the gist of his plan and played along. It had been… nice, having someone on his side for once.

 

Bill Cipher didn’t need friends, but maybe he could gain something from having a friend.

 

“I guess not. That doesn’t seem like something a friend would do. Friends don’t beat each other, friends… work together, don’t they?” And now Bill turned slightly to the side, his mouth quirked up in a small smile which Dipper mirrored.

 

“Yep, that’s what friends do. So what’d’ya say, Bill? Friends?” Dipper held a hand out to him, a spark in his brown eyes, and Bill couldn’t turn down the opportunity. This was an entirely new kind of happiness, an entirely new confidence, and it was intoxicating. He reached out, taking Dipper’s hand and shaking it once.

 

“Friends, Pine Tree.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofread by TheHylianBatman


	3. Horror and Humour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleepovers are things friends do, right?

Bill was lying on his back in the middle of the lawn in front of the school. It was a rare, sunny autumn day and, so long as he stayed in the sun, he wouldn’t feel the chill of the coming months. Usually, he’d spend breaks like this reading, but he was relaxing, eyes closed as he listened to the twins banter back and forth. He wasn’t really paying attention to the words, but he was acutely aware of their presence.

 

Two months, and they still stuck by him like glue. How strange.

 

They’d both gotten Hell for it, of course. Bill couldn’t count how many times he’d helped Dipper out of the trash or picked up his books after they’d been knocked from his hands, each time feeling a pang in his stomach. He knew it wasn’t his fault- Dipper and Mabel had decided to be his friends, after all; he hadn’t forced them- but that didn’t change the mild pseudo-guilt he felt when he saw them suffering for it. But each time, once their tormentors were gone, the twins flashed him a smile and offered him a high five.

 

“Friends.”

 

It was repeated like some secret code, and, paired with a conspiratorial smirk from Dipper and a wide, genuine smile from Mabel, Bill was utterly shocked by both looks each time. He was getting better at returning them, though; laughs and small smiles here and there. And the mischief on their faces, or the dissenting comments he took part in after they were all dusted off washed away the guilt gnawing at his stomach.

 

This was what friendship was. This was what friends did for each other.

 

Bill’s eye opened, looking up at the sky almost quizzically. He still didn’t quite understand this whole friendship thing, wasn’t sure he ever would, but he felt different lately. There was more spring in his step, though he was getting worryingly close to being late to class now that he lingered in the halls to talk to Dipper or Mabel, or walked with one of them to their class first before dashing off to his own. He was beginning to see why so many students were late, though he still made every effort to be in his seat on time, if only to avoid the stares if he ran in late.

 

“Oh, right, brobro, I forgot to tell you, Grenda and Candy are staying the weekend. We don’t have any homework, so we’re gonna have a girls’ weekend! So, like, can you stay in the spare room downstairs?” Bill’s focus was drawn back to the twins’ conversation as he shook himself out of his thoughts, looking up between the two of them. Mabel’s hands were clasped together in front of her, her "signature" puppy eyes trained on her brother, who looked less than happy with the news.

 

“Ugh, fine, whatever. Just don’t expect me to sit there while you all play dress up and paint my face. I’m not dealing with that for two days. And can you try to be at least a little quiet? I like to get some sleep on weekends.”

 

Just as Mabel opened her mouth, likely to protest that karaoke was a fine art form and should be appreciated as such (they’d had this argument before), Bill sat up, ruffling his hair to free the blades of grass that had gotten caught between the locks, “You can stay at my house, if you’d like. I have plenty of space, and it’ll be much quieter than your spare room, I’m sure.”

 

The offer was presented at face value, with little inflection in Bill’s voice to bely the slight anxiety he felt. He was certain this was something friends were supposed to do, but he didn’t want it to come across the wrong way, and didn’t know if they were "close" enough for something like that. Mabel was certainly closer to Candy and Grenda than Bill had ever been to anyone in his life, with how much they knew about each other.

 

“Wait, seriously?” Dipper looked at Bill as if he’d grown a second head and Bill nodded cautiously, some of the anxiety melting away when the dark haired boy grinned, “Ah, thanks, man! I’ll actually be able to get some sleep this weekend without fear of being covered in glitter. You sure your parents won’t mind?”

 

Bill shook his head, shrugging his shoulders, “Nah, my mother won’t care. She’s gonna be out of town on a business trip anyway.”

 

Before Dipper could question further, Mabel’s arms had wrapped around Bill, squeezing him tight enough to earn a squawk from the blond, “Ey, Shooting Star, what gives?”

 

“Thank you so much, Bill! Now my girls and I can have all the fun we want, and Dipper won’t be ruining it all by being downstairs! You’re the best!” She squealed in his ear, causing Bill to wince before the bell rang, calling them to the last two classes of the day. “Gotta go tell the girls, see you both after school!” And with that, Mabel was off, excitement causing her to trip and nearly fall.

 

English and Chemistry passed like a blur after that, Bill filled with a strange sort of excitement. A sleepover. He was having a sleepover. He’d texted his mother to tell her, knowing she wouldn’t care, but still feeling a need to let her know. She’d mentioned the debit card she’d left for him, telling him it was his for whatever they might need over the weekend.

 

When the final bell rang, it didn’t even matter to Bill that the boys in the back of his class had spent the whole period throwing paper airplanes at his head, graduating to erasers when he didn’t react. He tossed his books into his locker; nothing vital was due on Monday, and it would be easier to walk without them. Making his way out of the school, he met up with Dipper, who was already leaning against the railing down the stairs.

 

“Mabel and her friends already headed off. I told her I’d swing by the house and get my clothes and stuff, and then we’d go back to your place. That cool with you?” When Bill nodded, the two headed down the road that would lead them to Dipper’s house, walking in fairly companionable silence.

 

It was hard to make conversation when both parties were battling internal anxiety, one over the upcoming sleepover and the other over making conversation in the first place, but at least the walk was short.

 

Bill could hear the girls screaming before they even reached the house, and he winced at the sound, looking over at Dipper sympathetically, “Are you safe going in to grab your things? I’d be careful if I were you.”

 

“Hey, better than spending the night. But if I’m not out in ten minutes, call in the fire brigade.” Dipper laughed as he ran into the house, and Bill couldn’t help but join him in that laughter.

 

“Duly noted, Pine Tree. You better make it out alive, I’d hate to have to explain to my mother that you didn’t come over because you were mauled by adolescent girls.”

 

Thankfully, no such call was necessary, as Dipper ran out of the house a few minutes later, calling a goodbye back to Mabel and his great uncle, looking none the worse for wear aside from the scrap of pink streamer attached to his foot, which Bill stepped on and picked up once the other boy had reached him, “Seems like some of the party wanted to come with you, but I’m afraid pink isn’t your shade, Pine Tree.”

 

The walk to Bill’s house seemed even shorter than the one from the school, and soon, he was unlocking the door and opening it for Dipper, letting the other boy in before locking the door behind him, “Just put your stuff down wherever, you can put it in my room or the living room, I don’t care. I’m gonna call in a pizza order so it’s here in like an hour or so and we can eat.”

 

Dipper hummed his assent, turning down the hall and opening the door that was clearly Bill’s room, if the gold script on the door was any indication. And it seemed black and gold was a running theme, the bedspread and sheets alternating between the colours. He set his bag down on the floor and looked around the room, noticing that Bill didn’t have much hung on the pale yellow walls, though two of the four were painted with black geometric patterns, triangles appearing to be cut out of the walls.

 

“My dad painted those, or, at least, that’s what my mom says. They’ve always been there, and I like them, so they stay.” Bill’s approach had been soundless and thus, Dipper jumped at the voice in his ear, causing the blond to chuckle, “Sorry, Pine Tree. Just wanted to tell you that the pizza’s ordered and will be on its way.”

 

“A-ah, thanks. And your room is really cool, sorry for snooping,” Dipper fiddled with his hat, taking it off and playing with the rim, but Bill shrugged his shoulders, uncaring.

 

“It’s whatever. I told you to put your stuff in here, ergo, you’re welcome in here. If you weren’t, I’d have said something.” And as swiftly as the awkwardness had come, it was passed as Bill walked back out of his room, “C’mon, let’s go pick out a movie to watch or something.”

 

The living room turned out to have a whole wall of movies to choose from, although they all looked a bit dusty, as if they hadn’t been touched for a while. There were a couple of pictures over the fireplace, some of Bill’s old school portraits and a picture of a young couple on their wedding day; presumably his parents, but Dipper wasn’t comfortable asking. There was a story there that was Bill’s to decide when to share.

 

“Hey, Pine Tree, you gonna keep staring at old pictures of me or settle for the real thing? I’m right here, you know,” Bill’s voice was mildly amused as he wandered over to the wall of movies, trailing a finger over them before he gasped excitedly, “Oooh, how about this one?” He was holding out _The Exorcist_ , “I’ve always wanted to watch this.”

 

“Sure, Bill, whatever you’d like. I’ve never seen that, so it’ll be new for both of us.”

 

They decided to wait until after dinner for the movie; horror movies were meant to be enjoyed in the cover of darkness, after all. And so they huddled around the coffee table in the living room when the pizza arrived, eating a couple of slices each before Bill put the leftovers in the fridge; they could eat more for breakfast.

 

“Let’s watch the movie in my room, then we won’t have to set up the surround sound. I don’t really know how it works.” And, without waiting for a response, Bill had already set off down the hallway and into his room, setting up the DVD player, “Just sit up on the bed, it’s where I usually watch TV from, and there’s lots of space. Why mom thinks I need a bed this big, I’ll never know, but whatever, it has its uses.”

 

The boys ended up sitting crosslegged on the black bedspread as the movie started, eyes glued to the screen. Bill’s mouth was stretched into a grin, clearly excited for the contraband horror movie- his mother didn’t approve of them. And he really enjoyed the opening sequences, the people were so stupid, it was no wonder something bad was going to happen.

 

But after the girl was possessed, things stopped being so funny. Small fingers grabbed the bedspread, twisting it as the possession progressed. Bill’s eye was wide and his smile fell, and when she shrieked for the first time, speaking in tongues, Bill screamed too, ducking to hide behind Dipper and grabbing on to the dark haired boy, face buried in his shoulder, “Y-you know, this.. this might… not have been… the best choice. I.. I’m done. Can we watch something else please?”

 

Dipper was surprised at the reaction, he’d never seen Bill scared before- never seen him show much negative emotion at all, aside from anger and boredom, but he wasn’t going to question it. He grabbed the remote and ejected the disk, channel surfing instead to hopefully find something much more mellow. He decided on some silly comedy, reaching over to pat Bill’s shoulder, “Hey, dude, it’s off. You can look at the screen, it’s all good.”

 

And slowly, Bill did look up, though he refused to relinquish his hold on Dipper. The other boy seemed totally unfazed by the horrific scenes, and something about that made Bill feel safer like this. “...Thanks. And… also, if you could… you know, not say anything, that’d be cool. I should like stuff like this.”

 

Dipper wasn’t entirely sure what Bill meant by that, but he shrugged, nodding, “Of course not, that’s what friends are for. I wouldn’t tell anyone your secrets. Now c’mon, let’s see how stupid this comedy is, that movie’s not gonna be coming to get you.”

 

Both of them ended up in stitches laughing at some of the scenes, lying on their stomachs to see the screen best, but every once in a while, the wind would rustle the trees against the window and Bill would grab hold of Dipper again, momentarily frightened. It was during one of these such moments that Bill drifted off to sleep, arms still wrapped around the other boy, and Dipper sighed, shaking his head. There was no way he was gonna get Bill to move without a good deal of whining, and it was getting late. He could sleep like this tonight.

 

Reaching for the remote, he turned off the TV with a softly whispered “Good night.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, I should mention that if you'd ever like to see the little planning posts/hints for future chapters, or hear songs that I associate with this fic, there's a tag for it on my tumblr: ilananight.tumblr.com/tagged/all-about-us-tag and you're also welcome to ask any questions concerning this verse there. 
> 
> Proofread by TheHylianBatman


	4. Snake Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lying is never the answer, but how exactly do you tell the truth when you've been living by that lie for so long?

When Dipper woke up, light was filtering through the blinds of the window across the room and catching on the brighter golds of the opposite wall and the pillows tossed about. It seems they’d both shifted around quite a bit during sleep; it was a wonder no one had fallen off. Or maybe Bill had, as the slim arms that had been vice-tight around him were absent now, as was their blond owner.

 

Sitting up, Dipper brushed his hair back off his face before settling it back over his birthmark and looking over the edge of the bed to determine that no, Bill hadn’t fallen over the side in his sleep. The other boy must already be awake, then, and had somehow spirited out of the room without waking him, but then, Dipper already knew just how quiet Bill could be when he needed to be.

 

Dipper wandered into the hallway, hearing water running down the hall. Maybe Bill hadn’t gotten up too long ago, then, if he was still in the bathroom. Speaking of, Dipper realised he should probably brush his teeth and wash his face; Bill had mentioned that his mother would be home sometime this afternoon, and Dipper had next to no clue what time it was.

 

When he reached the bathroom, the door was open as Bill brushed his teeth, already dressed in a bright yellow polo and blue jeans. He didn’t seem to notice Dipper waiting there, humming to himself as he swished the toothpaste around his mouth. It wasn’t until after he spit out the suds that Dipper cleared his throat, announcing his presence, and Bill turned sharply, surprised.

 

But his surprise was nothing compared to Dipper’s, who suddenly found himself staring into not an eye and a stitched socket, as he’d been led to believe, but rather two eyes. The usual blue one was wide with shock, and so was its golden twin, though there was clearly something wrong with that one. The pupil was dilated and it wasn’t quite focused on him, but rather somewhere behind him, but Dipper was more focused on the fact that it _existed._

 

“You have two eyes?!” The exclamation was half question, half accusation, a feeling of betrayal washing over Dipper. Why hadn’t Bill told him?

 

For a moment, Bill looked genuinely frightened by the outburst, flinching back, but then a blank expression replaced it, that old grin slipping up into place. “Obviously. You didn’t honestly think I’d gotten mauled by a wildcat and only lost an eye, did you? You’re more gullible than I thought.”

 

His voice had taken on a snide tone, and his posture was tense, the calm and sense of security that had built up between them over the past couple of months gone now as they stared each other down, Bill with an empty grin and Dipper with a face of mixed confusion and betrayal. In the end, it was Bill who turned away, grabbing a glass of water to rinse out his mouth, waiting for Dipper to turn tail and leave, he knew where the door was, after all.

 

Friends weren’t supposed to lie to each other, weren’t supposed to keep secrets. That much he understood, and that rule, he’d broken. This would end, and he would be by himself again. He was already preparing for the change in his routine, the new habits he’d have to break. At least he’d never lost his grin, the ultimate mask to hide the guilt that broiled in his stomach. Bill adamantly refused to look back at Dipper; he didn’t want to see his friend walk away. He just needed to dream up a fanciful tale for his mother; no doubt she’d accept it and move on. She didn’t have time to worry too much about her bright son.

 

But there was no sound of footsteps, no door slamming, no insults thrown his way, and the silence was almost worse. Bill didn’t like being proven wrong, and he certainly didn’t like receiving mixed signals, he couldn’t interpret them with his lack of experience.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The question was whispered into the silence between them, cutting the tension like a knife, but Dipper’s tone had lost its anger, being replaced by a strange sort of sadness. He was beginning to understand, now, that Bill hid most of himself, but that was upsetting. Dipper didn’t want to be a person Bill had to hide from.

 

A self-deprecating snort escaped the blond as he shrugged, turning back to Dipper and gesturing between them, “Because of this. Because I tell everyone I don’t have an eye, and everyone gives up and stops caring because no one bothers to get to know me any deeper than that. Because no one else ever made the effort to be my friend, to trust me and get me to trust them, and because I’ve never had to admit to my lies. And I didn’t want to. Because I didn’t want to break that trust.”

 

And that admission was already too much, Bill’s hands were clasped together, nails biting into the skin as he looked away yet again. He hated speaking so openly about himself, and that loathing was clear in his voice, the scathing tone directed not at Dipper, but inwards. He was supposed to be _better_ than this, dammit, wasn’t supposed to care as much as he did, wasn’t supposed to _feel_ like this.

 

A pair of arms wrapping around him from behind shocked him out of his internal conflict, shock crossing his face again as he looked down at the hands laced over his torso before looking over his shoulder at Dipper, “Pine Tree? What are you doing? Why are you hugging me?”

 

“Because you’re an idiot, and because we’re friends.” Dipper laughed softly before pulling back, placing a hand on Bill’s shoulder and gently tugging, trying to get the other boy to face him fully, “You could've told me. You knew I was gonna find out at some point, right? And… I dunno, it would have been less of a shock that way. But at the same time.. you’re different, and I get that, so I’m not gonna hold it against you- this time. Just… don’t lie about stuff like that anymore, okay? I want to know you, the real you. Not... creepy grinning you.”

 

For a moment, Bill was offended at the insult, but the words that followed stunned him into silence. Real him… now _that_ was a novel idea. Now that he thought of it, he wasn’t entirely sure who real him was, but he wouldn’t let on about that, that was something to come to terms to on his own. And so he grinned for a moment before letting it slip down to his softer smirk, turning to face Dipper and brushing the few locks of hair out of his face to expose the gold eye fully.

 

“...I’ll try my best. I can’t promise, though. Some stuff… just has to be mine, okay? But this, I guess, you can know.” He pointed to the bright eye, shrugging, “I was born with this, dual heterochromia, and the doctors were really worried. Something about the colour and how it causes extreme sensitivity, and it’s mostly blind. I can’t really see much out of it at all, and my brain focuses on using the other eye, but if I leave this one uncovered, I get really bad headaches from the shift of focus.”

 

That was more believable than Dipper had expected, but then, he supposed the truth should be. And he didn’t know why he’d taken Bill’s first story at face value, this made more sense than being mauled by a wild bobcat in the woods. It didn’t explain why Bill didn’t just tell people that in the first place, but Dipper was beginning to get the sense that a Bill kept a lot of things secret, with reason or without.

 

“Well, I mean, on the plus side, you get to wear a cool eyepatch. I bet you played an awesome pirate when you were younger, right?”

 

Chuckling, Bill let a bit of the tension dissolve as he shook his head, lips pursed in an expression of mock tragedy, “Alas, no. The eyepatch is a fairly recent installment, for most of elementary school I just tied a bandana around my head, hair and all. I’m certain my mother has pictures somewhere.”

 

Dipper joined in the laughter, glad for the change in tone. He’d been worried for a moment there that things wouldn’t fix themselves, that Bill would shut him out again, but maybe they were closer than he thought, “Better make sure my sister never sees those, or she’ll never let you live it down. But, as it is, I think the eyepatch is a good choice. Makes you look cool, dude.”

 

“Thanks.” The word was spoken swiftly, almost conspiratorily as Bill grabbed said eyepatch from the shelf of the medicine cabinet, tying it around his head again and then brushing his hair over it, “Mostly, I like that it blocks all the light, the bandanas always let some in, and it would draw my focus. So long as it’s dark for this eye, it thinks it’s always closed and doesn’t try to see things.”

 

“Yeah, well, it looks cool. And that’s just as important.”

 

And that had Bill chortling, the laugh echoing off the tiles of the bathroom as he slid past Dipper and out of the room, “Thanks, Pine Tree. I’m gonna make some pancakes or something. You should take a shower, your hair’s a mess.” As if to illustrate his point, he reached out to ruffle it before running off down the hall, cackling.

 

“Hey! Don’t be rude, Bill! You better make really good pancakes for being a dick like that!” The irate tone to his voice faded to an indulgent sort of affection, glad to be back to their usual friendship. This was easier than the deep stuff.

 

For the record, Bill Cipher, did, in fact, make damn good pancakes.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to post a chapter daily-ish, but tomorrow and Sunday that'll be impossible as I'm very busy and traveling. Expect an update in chapter form on Sunday evening or Monday, depending on what I can get done. But if you'd like little headcanons or whatever, you're free to shoot questions to ilananight.tumblr.com and i'll try to answer those.
> 
> Proofreading by TheHylianBatman


	5. A Noticeable Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill starts to realise just how much having a pair of friends has changed him as year eight comes to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight trigger warning for bullying/abuse in this chapter, please be careful if you're triggered by such situations <3

“Bill, what’re you wearing for graduation?” Mabel was leaning over the edge of her bed in the twins’ shared room, face upside-down in front of Bill’s as he attempted to finish his math problems, long brown hair covering the pages and earning her a disdainful glare, before the blond shrugged.

 

“Don’t know yet. Mother’s home this weekend, she said she’d take me to get something, because "nothing in my closet will work",” the words were accompanied by vicious air quotes before he gestured to the bright yellow patterned shirt and pale striped yellow shorts he was wearing, “I don’t understand what she means. They’re both shades of yellow, therefore, they match and should be good enough.”

 

“Yeah, Definitely! It shows just how bright your personality is that yellow’s your favourite colour, Bill! Just like pink for me. I’m taking Dipper shopping this weekend for graduation clothes, too, because he’s planning on just wearing his usual outfit, and that’s silly! People should dress with _style_ for graduation. Maybe we can meet up?” As usual, Mabel was already off on a tangent, describing the dress she was looking for before Bill could even respond to her question.

 

In response, he lightly pushed her shoulder up, trying to get her to move out of his way so he could finish his maths, “Yeah, sure. Mother probably wants to meet you both, anyway; she texts me sometimes to ask how my friends are doing. That’s all she calls you both, by the way, so don’t be surprised if she doesn’t know your names.”

 

Mabel flipped back to lay on her bed, huffing indignantly, “Well, that’s rude. How can she possibly know which friends we are? Does she just call all of your friends that?”

 

“Yep. All of them.” A snort accompanied the statement, as if Bill had more friends than the two Pines twins. His mother was simply so ecstatic that he’d taken a liking to people at all that she continuously called them his friends, as if to remind him- and herself- that he’d made friends. But apparently, Mabel hadn’t realised it; she was just too social to consider it.

 

“Wow, that’s weird. You use our names, don’t you? Like, you don’t just lump us in with everyone, do you? Because that’s rude, and, like, we eat lunch with you and everything, and-”

 

Standing up, Bill placed a hand over her mouth, the other one covering his own face in exasperation, “No, I don’t. I refer to you individually because you are two separate people. I can’t "lump you in with everyone" because you two _are_ ‘everyone’ and, I assure you, I can remember two names. My mother is just happy I have friends. Now can I _please_ finish these math problems? I want to be done with schoolwork.”

 

His tone left no room for argument, and there was an old coldness in his functional eye as he sat back down on the floor, working in silence as Mabel turned the sentences over in her head.

 

       What did Bill mean, that she and Dipper were "everyone"?

 

But, before she could ask, Dipper came back in from whatever Grunkle Stan had needed from him, and, once Bill was done with his math, the two were engrossed in conversation about some new sci-fi novel Dipper was reading.

 

Bill stayed for dinner, and then left to walk home, waving to the twins with a small smile on his face. One more real day of school, and then there was nothing but annoying tests, and then the promotion ceremony. His mother always told him middle school was the worst of it, and once he got to high school things would be better, and she was usually right about those sorts of things.

 

A sardonic laugh escaped him as he wandered down the street. Usually. She was routinely surprised by people’s attitudes toward him, adult or child. Likely, high school would be no different, and thus, he didn’t see the need for such pomp and circumstance. There was only one elementary school, one middle school, and one high school in Gravity Falls. It wasn’t like he was moving, or going to a school where most of his ‘peers’ weren’t. They were just going to a different set of prison hallways after summer.

 

His good mood had dissipated by the time he unlocked his front door, before closing it behind him and locking it. It was strange, the mood swings he seemed to have lately. Prior to this year, everything had been constant. He wasn’t happy, he wasn’t sad, he just existed, and that was all he needed. But now things were so different.

 

He set his backpack down on the couch, wandering over to the mantelpiece and looking at the pictures there. His mother was nothing if not proud of her son’s growth, what with every school portrait lined up in a row at the very front, but behind those, and much more dusty, were the old photos. The wedding portrait, and a picture Bill didn’t remember, despite being in it, sittting on a swing with his mother and a man he knew but didn’t recognise. He really did look like his father, didn’t he?

 

Shaking his head, he looked past that to the newest picture, a smile replacing the small frown on his face. Mabel had given it to him; it was a picture from the twins’ Christmas party; Bill was in the middle with one Pines at each shoulder, a Santa hat shoved unceremoniously over his mess of blond hair and arms around his shoulders. Stan had caught them laughing, totally candid, the only candid photo in the whole mix, and it was by far Bill’s favourite.

 

  The best picture you’ve ever taken, his mother had said.

        I’m glad you met these two friends of yours, they’ve changed you, she’d followed up with.

 

The words kept him awake late into the night, pondering. Dipper and Mabel had slotted into his life so easily, and changed his routine so quickly he hadn’t even noticed. It took a little longer to put on his grin in the morning, and they broke it down so quickly he almost had to reset himself between classes. When either of them were sick, they both stayed home, and the silence and solitude that had been the bread and butter of his existence before this year became suffocating.

 

         He really had changed, hadn’t he?

                      And if high school didn’t change things, maybe he would be the change.

 

It was with those thoughts that he finally fell asleep, only a few hours before the sunrise and before his last day of school.

 

School days were almost always banal and purposeless; there were too many rowdy students at this point in the year for any sort of teaching or class activities, and so most teachers gave them free reign, provided they weren’t huddled over make-up work or last minute projects. And Bill had finished everything and thus, simply sat at his desk and doodled or read, trying to ignore the inevitable paper airplanes and jeers.

 

      One more day, his mantra was, one more day.

             And then he’d be gone all summer, far away from them.

 

The bell rang, signalling the end of English and the beginning of lunch, and Bill was making his way out of the room and down the hall when a hand grabbed him by the back of his shirt, yanking him back and throwing him into the row of lockers, a corner catching him just below the ribs and knocking his breath away.

 

“Didn’t think I’d let you go sit with your little friends without roughing you up one last time, did ya, Psycho?” And just as swiftly as the pained surprise had come, it was replaced with the cold grin and a deep internal sense of boredom. Bill was really tired of the lack of originality to these insults.

 

“I devote so little thought to you that I didn’t think much at all, really. But you’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t you? What’s it like, being so simple-minded? Is breathing difficult?” And there were the lockers again, but this time it just earned a burst of laughter before Bill yanked himself away, walking down the hall with a growing sense of emptiness in his core.

 

          One more day, just one more day.

 

He settled into his usual corner of the field and opened his sandwich, ignoring the bruises he could already feel forming from the shoves. He’d have to steal some of his mother’s foundation for this weekend when they started to blossom, but it wouldn’t be the first time. She’d taught him herself, she didn’t mind him using it when he really needed to.

 

           Lately he’d been needing to a little too often, but what did it matter?

                     Just one more day, one more day.

 

“Hey, space cadet, earth to shuttle, anybody home?” A high-pitched giggle followed the words, and Bill was snapped out of his mantra, flashing a smile up at Mabel in apology for his lack of focus.

 

“Space cadet? Really, Shooting Star? I thought nicknames were my thing.” He moved his bag to the side, giving Mabel room to sit and catching sight of Dipper walking not far away, raising a hand in greeting. Bill waited until both twins were seated to resume eating, speaking between bites, “Mother flies in tonight and wants to go shopping tomorrow so she can rest Sunday before she flies out early, so she’ll be home for the ceremony next Friday. Is that okay with you two? I asked her if she could pick you up on our way to the mall, and she was fine with it.”

 

When both of the twins assented, the conversation turned to less vital topics, such as the horror that was their upcoming physics exam and the essay that Mabel was meant to have finished before the weekend but that she’d be cramming on Sunday instead, and Bill was able to push the dark mood from earlier in the day out of his head, a smile lingering through his last couple of periods.

 

         His little friends might not mean much to everyone else…

                  But his mother was right, they meant everything to him, they’d changed him.

                                 And certainly for the better.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter left of the small middle schoolers and then we're into high school which has a whole new set of challenges and landmarks 
> 
> Proofreading by TheHylianBatman


	6. A Myriad of Colours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picking clothes is an adventure as the trio prepares to end middle school

At nine o'clock sharp, Bill ran from his car to the door of Stanford’s house, knocking thrice with a smile on his face. When the twins’ great uncle opened the door, Bill gave him a toothy grin before running in; his mother wasn’t much of one for waiting and, if he knew Mabel, she was still deciding on a sweater.

 

“Shooting Star, Pine Tree, we’ve gotta go~! Mother wants to be at the mall right when it opens to avoid waiting in lines!” He came to a halt in the doorway of their shared room, laughing when he saw Dipper’s mussed up hair, “Did you just wake up, Pine Tree? I _told_ you nine o’clock, did you forget?! People are so forgetful! C’mon, I’ll grab your hat, let’s get going! Mother’s always saying time is money, and you’re losing out!”

 

“Yeah, yeah, Bill. And I’ve been awake for half an hour, I just haven’t brushed my hair yet, geez, calm down,” Dipper walked past the blond lounging in the door, heading across the hall to the bathroom to run a brush over his hair, “And I’ll take you up on that offer, my hat’s hanging-”

 

“Off your bedpost, I can see it. I’m only blind in one eye, Dippin Dot, have some faith,” there was an unusual air of excitement around Bill as he grabbed the hat and placed it on top of Dipper’s head, grinning again, “Now, let’s get going, Shooting Star’s already down there; I’m certain, I saw her zip past.”

 

Not intent on taking no for an answer, Bill grabbed Dipper by the wrist and dragged him out of the bathroom, ignoring the dark-haired boy’s protests of leaving his wallet in his room. “Mother won’t mind paying if you find something, she’ll be glad for the excuse to buy something for someone else, I promise. Just _hurry up_!”

 

Mabel was indeed downstairs when they reached the bottom, waving excitedly out the window. Some part of Bill wondered exactly how long she’d been there, but the thought was brushed from his mind. His mother was meeting his friends today, and that held center stage in his thoughts, a mixture of anxiety and excitement surrounding the notion.

 

When they left the house, she was standing next to the car, a smile on her face. Her hair was a couple of shades lighter than Bill’s and fell in softer curls, but where his eye was blue, her’s were a strikingly deep brown. She was returning Mabel’s excited wave, a small smile on her face.

 

“Mother, these are my friends. Pi- I mean, Dipper and Mabel,” the nicknames he preferred to their real names almost slipped out, and Bill awkwardly ran a hand through his hair for a moment before gesturing to the twins, smiling almost shyly, “Guys, this is my mother.”

 

“Hiya, Mrs. Cipher, it’s nice to meet you!” Mabel was quick to put her hand out, wide smile exposing her braces to the older woman, who laughed quietly and shook her hand.

 

“It’s so nice to finally meet Bill’s friends. You can call me Amelia, and there’s no need to be so formal,” and then her smile was turned to Dipper, her hand extended, “Bill speaks very highly of the both of you, it’s very encouraging. I’m glad he’s made friends.”

 

And that was apparently all she intended on saying as she got back into the car, Bill opening the door for the twins with a shrug before sitting in the front of the car. His mother wasn’t particularly talkative, even with the people she knew best.

 

“We’ve gotta find the coolest clothes, right, Bill? Gonna blow everyone away with how awesome we are!” The excitement in Mabel’s voice was palpable, and it broke the silence in the car, coaxing laughs out of Bill and Amelia and a snort from Dipper, followed by a shove and a stream of bantering between the three friends, with occasional giggles from the woman driving.

 

There was no such thing as an awkward silence with Bill’s friends, Amelia noticed, and she was happy for that.

 

Once at the mall, Mabel shot off with an excited squeal, catching sight of a rack of brightly coloured, sequined dresses. With another small laugh, Amelia trailed after her, “You boys can handle yourselves, right? I have a feeling she’ll be needing someone to help her choose between all of those.”

 

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll text you where we are. Have fun choosing dresses,” Bill gave a small smile before tugging Dipper along, “Mother always wanted a daughter, I think. Let’s let her have her fun with Shooting Star. Besides, I already know what I want, and I’m sure we could find you something.”

 

Bill knew the store like the back of his hand from how often his mother used to bring him here when he was younger. Nowadays, she gave him a credit card and let him shop for himself, but that didn’t change the fact that he knew exactly what section he was looking for.

 

He stopped when a wall of dress shirts in every colour imaginable met his eye, and immediately wandered over to the shades of yellow, carefully examining each one. Some were too bright, others far too dark and drab, and so he veered toward the pastels, the yellows that were almost white, and selected a very pale gold with a smile.

 

“Perfect. What colour are you gonna get, Pine Tree?” His own selection made, Bill was now much more focused on his friend before looking back to the wall of colours, “I think you’d look nice in red, or a dark blue. Definitely dark colours.”

 

“I don’t know if this is really my style, Bill. Can I go for something simpler, like, a polo shirt or something?” To be honest, the myriad of dress shirts was a little intimidating, and Dipper was certain he couldn’t decide on a colour, even if he was left here all day to think. He wasn’t nearly as devoted to a colour as Bill was.

 

Bill shrugged, waving a hand to the side, “Whatever you want, Pine Tree. Just so long as you’re happy with it. But, if you’re gonna do that, wait a second, because there’s a couple more things that I have to grab first.”

 

The couple of things turned out to be a bowtie and suspender set, both jet black, and a pair of black slacks, which reminded Dipper to grab a pair of khakis for himself when he finally picked out a red polo shirt on Bill’s advice. Selections made, Bill sent a quick text to his mom, snorting at her reply before relaying it to Dipper.

 

“Mother says after seventeen dresses, Shooting Star finally found one that was pink enough, but she’s still gonna need to add more sparkles. She’ll meet us at the checkout back in the girl’s section,” Bill was still chuckling as he read it and Dipper placed a hand on his forehead, shaking his head.

 

“Sounds very Mabel. I’ll have to try to avoid getting glitter in my bedsheets again. I woke up sparkly for weeks once,” and the two were laughing themselves to stitches as they walked back to the checkout, presenting their choices to Amelia, who approved instantly, though with a little look at Bill for the yellow, which he missed because he was too focused on Mabel describing the dresses she’d tried on.

 

      It was truly amazing, how much they’d affected him.

           She’d never seen him focus so fully on anyone in his life.

 

By the time she’d purchased the clothes and separated them into three bags for the trio, Mabel was almost done describing the dresses to an amused Bill and a despairingly indulgent Dipper who looked grateful for the saving grace of returning to the car. When he looked at the clock on the dashboard, he was surprised to see that it was nearly noon.

 

   How had they spent over two hours shopping?

 

The school week passed with miraculous speed; everyone was too focused on exams and projects to even throw insults at any of them, and, before any of them knew it, it was time to graduate. The only real bump in the road was the harsh argument Bill had with the principal, who was adamant on reading his whole name at the ceremony.

 

“My name is Bill, _not_ William. I don’t go by William. You can write William on the diploma, fine, but I do not respond to it. So you’re going to call me Bill for the ceremony.” At a height only a bit above 5’2”, Bill didn’t make a very intimidating figure against the principal’s six feet, but his hands were balled into fists, his eye narrowed in a glare.

 

“It’s too informal for the ceremony, Mr. Cipher. I understand you like your nickname, but it won’t hurt to use your full name for once. I’m sure your mother would appreciate it.”

 

“Don’t pretend like you know anything, sir. I can tell you right now that my mother does not want to hear her late husband’s name called out over that loudspeaker any more than I want my dad’s, so you’re going to call me Bill, or I’m going to find someone more important than you and make you.”

 

Needless to say, the principal had backed off after that and agreed, but it didn’t change the fact that Bill went home from school that day so angry he wanted to cry, a gnawing feeling in his stomach as he looked at the pictures again, eyes wandering to the dusty liquor cabinet in the corner of the sitting room with a sneer.

 

William Cipher was a name he never wanted to hear in his life. And he would make certain he never had to.

 

Bill Cipher walked across the stage to his chosen name with a smirk on his face, a heady pride filling him. He’d beaten them all again, and he’d proven himself. And the silence that had pervaded the similar ceremony in fifth grade was broken by Mabel’s excited cheering and Dipper’s yell. Bill almost felt like he was flying and made sure to repay the favour in kind, hooting for the both of them as they were called to the stage.

 

Summer without the twins would be lonely, but they were going back to California to visit their family and old friends, and he was joining his mother on a business trip to Europe; there was nothing that could be done. The trio exchanged Skype usernames with promises to call and Mabel hugged Bill tightly, crying into his shoulder.

 

“It’s only a couple of months, Shooting Star. I’ll see you right back again in August. And I bet I’ll be taller than you, too,” the teasing words had their desired effect, stopping the tears as indignace crossed Mabel’s face.

 

“No way, Bill, I’m _always_ gonna be taller. I’m the oldest!”

 

Bill just laughed and shrugged as he reached out and took Dipper’s hand before yanking him into a hug, patting his back, “See you in a couple months, Pine Tree. Try not to miss me too much, alright?”

 

But once the car had driven off it was Bill who was left with tears in the corners of his eyes. Two months was a long time.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's the end of their middle school experience~ Next chapter we start high school, hope everyone's as excited as I am 
> 
> Proofread by TheHylianBatman


	7. Improvements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An overview of the summer Bill had apart from the twins, and the positives born from it, concluding with the trio's reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, on the plus side, I've already written the next chapter, so it'll be up tomorrow evening without fail <3

It was harder than expected to keep up via Skype over the summer. Bill was almost half a day ahead of the twins in time and running around from country to country, town to town. By the time he settled in any hotel or vacation condo, Dipper and Mabel were either off on their own adventures or still asleep. And thus he tried to fill his time as best he could, rather than logging on to the empty circles on Skype.

 

His mother’s coworkers were more than happy to include him in their shopping trips, very few of them had such young ‘children’ of their own, they cooed at him. And apparently it was extremely fun for them to pull him into one boutique after another, load his arms with clothing, and shove him into dressing rooms while attendants chattered and asked if he needed help. Needless to say, Bill was a tad bit overwhelmed.

 

But when he looked in the mirror, it was all worth it.

 

A large part of the improvement was personal, he’d sprouted up several inches seemingly overnight, his mother shrieking one morning when he came down to breakfast and stood over her, eyes level with the top of her head. Miraculously, he’d somehow managed to skip the gangly stage of tripping over his own feet, though his back and neck did ache at times from the strange new angles he slept at. The shelves he couldn’t reach at the start of the summer would be no match for him when he returned to Gravity Falls.

 

To compliment the height he’d gained, he hadn’t cut his hair since shortly before graduation, and the locks that used to flip off around his face in cowlicks and crinks were settling across his forehead, parted to the side to cover most of his eyepatch, and they’d smoothed out considerably with the new weight of the longer hair. He could flip it back if he tilted his head just right now, and he’d spent a morning doing just that, pleased with the effect.

 

His mother’s coworkers and friends complimented him on his growth as he stepped out of dressing rooms to their appraising eyes. They’d taken note of his preferred colours, but had threatened to burn the clothes he’d left the country with.

 

“A boy your age should dress better, Bill. You do know those shades don’t match, don’t you? You could do with a bit of contrast, some other colours.” The comments had been thrown his way and at first Bill had reacted with indignation, brows furrowed and doors slammed in faces. It had taken his mother’s more gentle approach to convince him to let the ladies pick out some clothes for him.

 

And as a blue eye stared into the mirror, he was glad he’d agreed.

 

Grey slim-fitting jeans sheathed his legs, and the button down he wore over them was open, a soft shade of yellow. Beneath that was a black t-shirt with some indiscriminate text scrawled over it, the contrast drawing attention to the design.

 

Looking from the mirror to a picture of the store’s nameless models on the wall, Bill grinned, flipping his hair back.

 

He looked _good._

 

With only a couple of days until his return, Bill was curled up on the hotel bed, bags already packed, laptop open in front of him. Neither of the twins appeared to be online, so he shot them a quick message in the group chat, as they’d been doing quite frequently lately.

 

**Bill Cipher:** You two dorks going to be waiting for me when I fly in? Or am I going to be the one throwing you a welcome back party?

 

Just as he was about to close the computer and get ready for bed, Dipper’s icon turned to green and the other boy began to type.

 

**Dipper Pines:** We’re already home, Bill. Just waiting on you. Are you even going to be back in time for school? We start next week, dude.

 

**Bill Cipher:** Are you questioning me, Pine Tree? I bet you three milkshakes I’ll be in first period before you come Monday, jet lag or no.

 

**Bill Cipher:** And fyi, my flight comes in on Friday. So I’ll be more than good on time.

 

**Dipper Pines:** You’re on for that bet. I can outrun you, remember?

 

**Bill Cipher:** That’s what you think Pines. You haven’t raced me in months, for all you know I’ve been training. Get ready to eat dust.

 

Dipper began typing again, but then quickly erased before sending a message.

 

**Dipper Pines:** Sorry, gotta go, Grunkle Stan is yelling at me to come down and help him. Cya Friday, Bill.

 

**Bill Cipher:** Yeah. See you then.

 

The time on his clock told Bill that it was best that their conversation had ended there. It was nearing one in the morning and he had to be up in a few hours. He knew from experience how long conversations with Dipper could last when they got into it.

 

Closing his laptop, he left it on the bedside table before drifting off to sleep, the black and white world of his dreams surrounding him.

 

The next couple of days passed in a whirlwind and a drag, packing luggage into cars and saying goodbye to all of mother’s friends and promising to write if he had the time all ending in a monotonous flight, the blond teen staring out the window at the clouds and the stars, watching time pass as they crossed oceans and miles of land.

 

It seemed like forever until the plane touched ground, late in the night. Or maybe it was early morning, Bill couldn’t tell, he just knew that his internal clock had been telling him to sleep for hours but sleeping on planes was just something he couldn’t do. So he stumbled from the airport to the cab and from the cab to his bed, pausing for only a moment to open up his texts on his phone and look at the backlog from Dipper and Mabel.

 

[text] i’m home. cya tomorrow? or today idk what time it is. sleep now text later.

 

He passed out before the replies even reached him.

 

The next morning, Bill was woken by the light filtering in through his windows, calm and familiar and-

 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

 

Fingers rapped against the wood of his door, the only warning before a brightly coloured blur was running at him and jumping onto the bed, engulfing him in a hug. And maybe he couldn’t see who it was, but the only person who could squeal that high was-

 

“Mabel, let Bill breathe, geeze. He was in _Europe_ , not the hospital.”

 

“Don’t act like you don’t miss him just as much, Dip Dop! We haven’t seen him in _months_ , look at his _hair!”_

 

A laugh escaped the blond at that, the same laugh he’d always had. The growth spurt hadn’t done much for the high timbre of his voice, just smoothed out some of the worst cracks, “Let go, Shooting Star, and maybe he’ll be able to. For that matter, I’ll be able to cover my bad eye and see the both of you, because as it is, you’re both more than a little fuzzy.”

 

The mention of his eye had Mabel shifting off him to just sit on the bed as Bill got up, walking over to the nightstand to tie the eyepatch around his head, flipping his hair back over it. When he turned around, both of the twins were staring at him with open mouths.

 

“What, did I grow an extra head or something?” One eyebrow was raised as Bill crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“...You’re so… _tall_.” Mabel stood up from the bed, walking over to Bill with a frown, “No fair, _I’m_ the oldest, _I_ should be the tallest. Rude.” As if personally offended, she poked him in the chest. Sure, she’d grown too, but she hadn’t turned into a beanpole, and Bill had a couple of inches on her now.

 

“Oh, that, yeah. I forgot you guys weren’t around for all of this. I can’t wait until everyone else sees, because I look great.” He patted Mabel’s head vaguely, an almost attempt at consoling her for the loss of her height advantage, before looking over at Dipper, “You look exactly like when I saw you last, Pine Tree. What, don’t you miss me? Not gonna give your best friend a hug? I’m hurt.”

 

“Shut up you idiot, I’m just shocked is all,” Bill’s statements shook Dipper out of his stupor and he walked over to give the now-taller blond a hug, patting his shoulder, "This is weird, though. You… I don’t know, it’s just weird, this height difference.”

 

“Dipper’s just angry because he’s the shortest again. Because he hasn’t grown yet. Mom says he’s gonna be real tall later but I don’t believe her. But nevermind that, you gotta tell us all about your trip! Occasional messages were not enough to catch the drift, Bill Cipher.”

 

Holding up his hands in surrender, Bill laughed again before grabbing two wrapped packages and bringing them with him as he sat back down on the bed, gesturing for the twins to join him, “Alright, _alright_ , hold your horses. I did just wake up, and I’m pretty sure wherever my mind thinks we are, it’s dinner time or something. So slow it down a notch.”

 

Explaining his great adventures didn’t take as long as he’d thought, and he was handing them both their presents before long, a small smile on his face, “They’re not much, just things that reminded me of you guys while I was over there. So, if you don’t like them, you can get rid of them or whatever.”

 

Mabel was ripping hers open before he’d even finished, squealing yet again in glee when the brightly coloured fabric unfolded in her lap. It was a hand-dyed scarf he’d bought from a Romani woman selling wares in Paris, the bright shades immediately bringing Mabel to his mind. She was the only person who could actively incorporate that many colours into a daily routine, and he was rewarded for his choice with another tight hug before she busied herself with the scarf.

 

Dipper opened his gift with a bit more finesse after shaking his head at his sister’s antics, looking down at the leather-bound journal with pleasant surprise. It, too, was handmade, but the detailing here was in the design hand tooled on the front, interlocking and interlacing circles and triangles, the pages all stitched to the leather by hand.

 

“How’d you know I wanted a journal, Bill? I’ve been wanting something to write in lately.”

 

Shrugging, Bill laughed, waving him off, “I didn’t. Like I said, I just saw it and thought of me. Maybe you were thinking so loud I heard you and bought it subconsciously… Or maybe I’m just reading your mind, Pine Tree~!” The last words were combined with a flash of that old sinister grin before he dropped the pretense, laughing again.

  
He was so glad they liked their gifts. It was good to be with his friends again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actual high school for the trio starts up next chapter I hope you're ready


	8. Loving Every Minute of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revenge is sweet and karma's a bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really good mood music (and the inspiration for the chapter title) can be found by listening to There's A Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered Honey. You Just Haven't Thought of It Yet by Panic! at the Disco. You can listen to that by c/ping the link https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=muQsKRKefe8

Monday came swiftly and with it the exciting new experience of high school. The building, which had always seemed large and imposing, didn’t look like much now that Bill could see into all the windows and over all of the counters. Maybe his mother had been right, this would be a _wonderful_ four years.

 

If he ignored every single person outside of his extremely small social circle, of course.

 

As was ritual, his mother made sure to be home to drive him to school for the first day. He would walk the rest of the year, but she insisted on this, beaming and waving as he ducked out of the car and flashed her a smile in return.

 

“Be sure to call me and tell me all about it tonight, sweetie! I’m sure you’ll have a great time.” And with that she blew a kiss and drove off, her flight left in a couple of hours. It had gotten harder and harder for her to take full days off at home as the years passed, but she liked it and Bill was used to it by now.

 

Shouldering his bag, he turned away from the street to the school and let his old grin slip onto his face. Time to claim a haunting spot before too many people showed up.

 

Alas, it seemed a good many of his classmates had a similar idea, when he opened the door to the hallway he was greeted with far too many familiar, if nervous faces. They huddled in their usual cliques, comparing class schedules and lamenting the end of summer, and Bill rolled his eyes. _Smart_ people did such complaining over the weekend, as he and the twins had spent their Saturday morning cross-checking schedules.

 

He tried to shoulder his way through the crowds, but paused when he felt eyes on him, looking around to see that, indeed, whole groups were gawking, mouths wide open.

 

“Who is that?”

 

“Do you think he’s new?”

 

“Fuck that, do you think he’s _single_?”

 

“Dude, I think that’s _Cipher._ ”

 

“No way, it can’t be.”

 

The whispers followed him as Bill relaxed his posture, a smirk taking form on his face. His shoulders rolled back naturally, a new swing in his step as he tossed his hair, revealing the eyepatch to answer their questions in a single motion before walking through them, leaving the crowd shocked in his wake.

 

High school really was great.

 

Reaching his locker, he whistled to himself as he spun the lock, opening it before dumping most of his books inside. When he closed it, a pair of brown eyes met a singular blue, Mabel’s braced grin drawing a smile from Bill in return.

 

“So, I hear about some new kid in school. Tall, blonde, mysterious, and I was wondering if you thought he’d want to eat lunch with my brother and I?”

 

Placing a hand on his chin, Bill hummed thoughtfully for a moment, eye narrowed, “Hmmm, I don’t know. You seem alright… but this brother of yours… might be a problem, you know?”

 

“Glad to know I’m not wanted, guess I’ll be finding some new friends.” Dipper’s dry, sarcastic reply came from behind him and Bill spun on a heel to spread his arms open wide, laughing brightly.

 

“Pine Tree! Didn’t see you there, hope you didn’t catch me saying anything unsightly. That would be truly awful, now wouldn’t it?” He slung a casual arm around Dipper’s shoulder, ruffling brown locks of hair before shutting his locker with a smirk, “You guys want to scope out a place to eat before I beat Dipper to English class?”

 

“Keep kidding yourself, Bill. Just because you’re taller now doesn’t make you any faster, and I’m gonna prove it to you,” Dipper shrugged Bill’s arm off indignantly before heading off down the hallway, Bill and Mabel trailing behind as they looked around for a good place to eat later.

 

They settled on a patch of grass in the center square of the high school, far enough away from the lunch tables to be ignored most likely, and agreed to meet back there after fourth hour just before the bell rang.

 

“Race you to class, Pine Tree!”

 

And with no other warning Bill took off at a sprint, laughing at the top of his lungs while Dipper cursed him, taking off after the other boy with a shout.

 

“Not fair, Cipher, not fair!”

 

Despite his headstart, the laughter and running combined tired out the taller boy and he only beat Dipper by a matter of inches, lunging forward to touch the doorframe before the other could reach it, a triumphant grin on his face as he stepped in the door. Taking in deep breaths, he turned and bowed to Dipper, mischief in his eyes, “I never said I’d play fair, did I? And I do believe you owe me some milkshakes later, Pine Tree.”

 

Bill usually opted for corner seats back in middle school, but he decided to head straight for the center this time, settling himself where he’d certainly be seen and heard. It was time he got some recognition for just how good he was at all of this.

 

Dipper was still grumbling as he settled into the desk next to Bill with a sigh, but the monotonous drone of high schooler’s chattering as papers were passed around soon replaced his huffing as Bill stared forward with boredom. Apparently even in high school the first class was entirely pointless, just a regurgitation of basic rules: no chewing gum, no passing notes, no foul language, late work policies, blah blah blah.

 

The bell really couldn’t ring fast enough.

 

Dipper and Bill parted ways after that for three more classes of the same material, a stack of syllabi that Bill was almost certain would be identical- just with textbook names and material lists switched out- piling up in his binder as he made his way to their predetermined spot, grabbing his math textbook from his locker on the way.

 

Once again, when he closed the locker door, there was a pair of eyes watching him, but this time they didn’t belong to either of the twins. A girl Bill recognised from previous years with dyed black hair and bright grey eyes was smiling at him, clearly enthusiastic and confident.

 

“Hello, my name’s Alice and I know we’ve never met, but we have history together, I sit behind you, and I was thinking maybe sometime we could study together? And maybe go to a movie or something afterwards?”

 

Bill smiled excitedly, a mock brightness in his eyes “You know _what_ , that sounds like a _wonderful_ _idea_. Lots of fun! Just as much fun as watching Ryan push me down the hill into the river back in fifth grade, I’d guess. Maybe a little less, considering how loud you laughed then.” Bill’s smile turned to his old grin, the blankness replaced by vindictive glee as he flashed his teeth at her, before dropping his voice to a low whisper, “Bet you thought I forgot about that, didn’t you? Bet you thought I’d jump at the chance to have your attention and affections? And you know what, maybe a few years ago I would have. But I’m different now. And I’m _better_ than you.”

 

Shouldering his bag, he turned his back on her, looking over his shoulder to wink and blow her a kiss, waving his fingers, “Ta-ta, sweetheart. You may want to check your makeup, I think your eyeliner is starting to run.”

  
And away he walked, leaving her standing shell shocked next to his locker, mouth wide in surprise and hurt and rejection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll warn you now that things are looking up, but they're about to get a little messy for Bill.


	9. Mirrored in Black and White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dream hits a little close to home for Bill, and a new student comes to school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, darlings. Holidays and work schedule have destroyed my writing schedule alas. This chapter's interesting in concept, I hope you like it. <3

His surroundings were all in grey scale. Incredibly detailed, but grey scale, not the vibrant colours he was used to. Stepping out of bed, he reached out to open the door of his bedroom and looked down at his hand, the same shade of pale peach it always was, pale yellow nightshirt sleeves reaching his wrists.

But that was normal now, he’d always dreamt like this. Only people were given the grace of colour in the world of his dreams, even when he hadn’t been able to traverse it with ease.

Throwing the door open, he stepped out into a different hallway. His own home had fallen from around him, replaced by a foreign building with wooden floors and portraits on the walls. There was a lived-in feeling to this place, the carpets were worn and the wood stain was fading in places. Entirely different from the careful organisation of his own house, the spotless quality his mother insured the housekeeper maintained.

It felt like home.

A quirking of the lips constituted Bill’s smile as he walked down the hall, fingers trailing over the walls. He loved being able to travel where he wanted to now, when he was younger he had always been thrown from room to room, dream to dream, memory to memory. It wasn’t until the demon came to him that he’d learnt how to choose his adventures, choose his entertainment.

Well, the realm’s other constant visitor, anyway. It called itself a demon, and Bill wasn’t going to question it. His own dreams wouldn’t lie to him, would they? Even with the creatures they seemingly had dreamt up. And it really seemed to know what it was talking about, when it first appeared to him.

_“Hey, kid. You look a little lost. Don’t you know this place is yours? Stop letting it toss you around, it’s embarrassing.”_

__

_“W-what do you mean? I don’t know where I am, how could any of this be… mine?”_

__

_“Well, **technically** it’s **ours** , but nevermind technicalities today. Welcome to the Mindscape, kid. Every dream on Earth lives here, and **we** have free reign to use them as we wish! Isn’t that **fantastic**?”_

__

_“Mindscape…? I… don’t understand.”_

__

_“....You really are **pitifully** human. Let’s fix that, shall we?”_

And a laugh had been Bill’s only warning before the triangle’s long black arms had reached out, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, dragging him off through the mansion of rooms. Each led to a different dream, the demon explained, and while most people only had access to their own, Bill could see them all, because he was different.

 

_“Different how? Why am I the only one who sees this?”_

__

_“Nevermind that, kid, I don’t have all night to explain things to you. You need to explore for yourself, but don’t hesitate to call if you need me! **I’ll be watching you!”**_

And with that the glowing triangle had disappeared in a flash of blue flame, leaving Bill to wander the halls, opening doors to dream after dream. Thus his nights had passed from that day on, and thus they continued today.

He hummed softly to himself as he walked, an ambient tune to fit the atmosphere of the place. Door after door he passed, none of them calling out to him particularly today. He always walked until he found something that really caught his eye, with every dream in the world to choose from, he had some room to be picky.

In the end, he chose a rather dilapidated looking door, paint peeling at the edges as he opened it and fell softly down into this other world. Looking around, he saw nothing but trees, reminiscent of the forests he’d known all of his life. Very reminiscent, actually, perhaps he was still in the American northwest somewhere, how strange.

From behind him, a scream drew his attention and Bill turned on his heels, running toward the sound. He knew nightmares, had been plagued by them for much of his childhood, and he didn’t want anyone suffering from what sounded like a terrible one.

When he reached the clearing that the sound had come from, though, Bill had to freeze at the sight that met his eyes.

Some sort of _creature_ was encroaching on the boy who had screamed, which, truthfully, Bill had expected, but what he _hadn’t_ expected was whose eyes he’d be meeting over the creature’s shoulder.

The boy in such terrible peril was Dipper.

Bill’s shock at the realisation was enough to twist the dream and tear it to pieces, leaving both the dream Dipper and himself in freefall until he called up the forest again, minus the large, clawed beast that had once been there.

“Dipper, I can explain, really-”

“Who _are_ you? And why do you know my name?”

And this time the shock and hurt at that was enough to throw Bill out of the Mindscape all together as he awoke with a jolt, breath ragged.

“What _was_ that…. Does Dipper not… know me in his dreams?”

Shaking his head and trying to clear his thoughts, he looked over at his alarm clock and groaned. 6:55, he had to be awake in five minutes, no use in trying to go back to sleep now, it wouldn’t be worth it. And thus he rolled out of bed wrapped in his gold coverlet which he left on the floor by the door to his room to go about his morning routine.

The dream was still haunting him when he got to school, though, and he couldn’t stop himself from asking Dipper about it as they walked to English, “Hey, have you ever had a really weird dream? Like, one that bothered you when you woke up?”

“Yeah, once or twice. I don’t remember my dreams usually, apparently I don’t sleep enough for that or something. My nights usually end up like last night did, with me staring at the ceiling until the sun comes up. Then I’ll crash tonight to make up for it.”

Bill’s brow furrowed at that, both because missing out on that much sleep couldn’t be healthy, and because if Dipper hadn’t slept at all last night, Bill couldn’t have possibly visited his dream somehow. This created only more confusion, and Bill sighed, “Sorry about that, Pine Tree. We’ll find you a way to sleep better sometime, okay?”

And thus Bill was left to ponder this other Dipper for the rest of his morning, theories scribbled in  the corners of pages of lecture notes.

Alternative universe? A trick of the imagination? Had he accidentally walked into his own nightmare realm? Was he just making up the rest of this whole ‘Mindscape’ place to stop his nightmares?

The thoughts were beginning to give him a headache when he sat down in the trio’s corner for lunch, eyes closed as he leant back against the tree and sighed.

“Bi~ill! Bill Bill Bill! Beanpole pay attention to me I need to know something!” But of course Mabel wouldn’t let him wallow in his thoughts for long as she came running up, sitting down without grace and immediately beginning to tug at the collar of his shirt to get his attention.

His blue eye opened, eyebrow raised, “You know, I’m not deaf in the slightest, you can stop tugging at my shirt, I hear you loud and clear, Shooting Star. What’s got your pigtails in a twist?”

“There’s a new girl at school! But no one’s talking about it, they’re all just doing whatever she says! Who is she, do you know? Is she like a princess or something because she acts like one with her shiny blonde hair and her fancy clothes and-”

“Pacifica Northwest,” Bill’s voice was monotone with boredom as he rolled his eye, shaking his head, “That’s her name. And she’s not really new, just new to the whole actually coming to school thing. Her parents thought she was too good for school here in Gravity Falls and hired her a private tutor. I guess they couldn’t find one for her for high school, so she’s here now. Her parents basically own the town, and she knows it.”

“Pacifica, huh? Well, what’s she like? You’ve lived here just as long as she has, surely you have to know _something_ more about her than the fact that she was home schooled, right?”

“... You’re _really_ asking me that? It’s not like we were best friends or something, Shooting Star. I know just as much about her as the tabloids have published and I’ve read in line at the grocery store. If you want to know anything about Pacifica, you’ll have to figure it out yourself.”

“Then that’s exactly what I’m gonna do! Bye Bill, tell DipDop where I went, I’m gonna go make us a new friend~!” And before Bill could even begin to attempt to dissuade her, Mabel was gone, running off just as fast as she had come, just in time for Dipper to watch her go.

“What was that about? You didn’t upset my sister, did you?”

Snorting, Bill shook his head as he took a bite of his sandwich, “Nah, she’s just deadset on befriending someone who’s going to tear her to pieces. We might need to arrange a cake party sometime soon. Pacifica’s… not the kindest person, if what everyone says is true.”

Dipper took that with a shrug, opening his own lunch, “Don’t underestimate my sister, she has her ways. She’s gotten lots of people to do things they normally wouldn’t, myself regrettably included.”

That drew a short laugh out of Bill, who raised his bottle of juice to the other, “Here here, Pine Tree. We should form a support group.”

Laughter bubbled up out of both of them as they clinked the plastic of their bottles, toasting to their newfound club, and Bill’s worries from earlier faded into the background.

 **  
**So what if that other Dipper in his dreams didn’t know him, this one was all he needed. This one was his best friend, and that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be updating again either tomorrow night or Tuesday depending, and then I'll be taking a week or so off, because I'll be attending SDCC, so I apologise in advance for the short hiatus <3


	10. Masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper gets a glimpse of what lies beneath the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late, SDCC took over my life.

Persistence was key when it came to Mabel’s efforts. Day after day Pacifica scoffed in her face, flipping ice blonde hair over her shoulder before she strutted off, laughing with the gaggle of girls that followed in her wake. And yet day after day Mabel extended the offer with more determination than the last.

 

“Hey, Pacifica, you wanna come over tonight? There’s a new episode of What Not to Wear on and we could make snacks and watch it together! I already asked my grunkle, he says you can spend the night and everything!”

 

Pale eyes rolled in their sockets and Pacifica’s usual scoff fell on Mabel’s ears, “You’re a real dork, you know that. You’ve asked me every day for the past two weeks, are you ever going to just _give up_? We’re on different levels, dweeb.”

 

“I don’t believe in giving up. Quitters never win and winners never quit, and Mabel Pines is a winner!” A bright smile accompanied that as the dark haired girl primped her sweater and raised an eyebrow, “ _And_ that wasn’t a _no_ , so are you gonna come over?”

 

“Ugh, whatever. But just this once, and then you’re gonna leave me alone, okay? You’re cramping my style.”

 

The shriek of joy that came in response could have shattered fine glass as Mabel took hold of Pacifica’s hand, dragging her out of the school, already chattering excitedly.

 

Her route happened to lead her past Dipper and Bill who were leaning up against Bill’s locker and the adjoining one, discussing the book they’d have to read for English. Any discussion was broken by Mabel’s excited yell, though, when she passed.

 

“Dipper! Bill! Pacifica’s spending the night! We’re gonna be best friends forever!”

 

“No we’re not I’m just tired of you stalking me, you freak.”

 

“Same thing!”

 

And with that, they were gone, leaving a very confused pair of boys in their wake. The confusion melted into laughter, though, when a single blue eye met brown and they shook their head at the incredulity of it all, peals of laughter escaping them both.

 

“How on _earth_ did your sister manage that, Pine Tree? Pacifica without her entourage? It’s a miracle of some sort.”

 

“You’ve known her for a year now and you’re still asking me like I know the answers? Dude, Mabel’s got some sort of… magic friend powers or something. I bet you they’ll be up all night and by tomorrow they’ll be braiding each other’s hair.” Realising the implications, he placed a hand to his head, groaning, “And I’ll be getting no sleep, and definitely no reading done for the quiz tomorrow.”

 

A hand came out to smack Dipper’s shoulder, Bill’s face twisted into a disbelieving expression, “You know you’re welcome at my house anytime, Pine Tree. There’s plenty of space and my mother really doesn’t care who’s in her house when she’s not around. Or when she is, for that matter, she’s very easygoing about that.”

 

“But we have class tomorrow, don’t you need to sleep? I don’t wanna keep you up.” Dipper shrugged, waving his hand nonchalantly, only to have it swatted down by Bill before the taller boy crossed his arms over his chest, expression judgemental.

 

“Just stop talking, Pine Tree. You’re sleeping over, if I need to sleep I’ll sleep and you won’t stop me. I’ll order pizza for us or something and that way you won’t fall into English tomorrow sleep deprived and hopeless for the quiz. I can’t have a dropout for a best friend, after all.” And with that the cool expression dropped in favour of a mischievous smirk.

 

“Oh, I see how it is, you’re just trying to keep your own reputation up, no real concern for me at all, huh Cipher?” And Dipper was shoving Bill’s shoulder in return, prompting another chuckle.

 

“You know me, gotta stay at the top of that social food chain. So, whaddaya say, Pine Tree? Pizza and boring books night?” Bouncing back from the shove, Bill’s arm was around Dipper’s shoulders, still grinning with more than a little mischief.

 

“Pizza and boring books night.”

 

The roundabout walk to Bill’s house was uneventful, aside from Dipper’s swift run in to grab a duffel bag and shove clothes and other necessities into it. He’d run out twice as fast as he’d gone in, looking terrified, and Bill was certain there was at least a bit of glitter in his hair.

 

Mabel’s evening was panning out nicely, then.

 

As always, the house was empty when Bill unlocked and opened the door, ushering Dipper in before locking it behind him. The only sign that someone had been there at all was the glass on the counter, likely left over from Bill’s rush to leave the house that morning, and the blonde was quick to rinse that out and put it back in the cabinet with a rushed apology.

 

“Dude, it’s fine. You’re allowed to be a little disorganised sometimes, you’re a teenager. Chill out,” and with a bout of awkward laughter and a nod from Bill, the moment passed.

 

With a box of pizza between them on the floor, the two read passages of the book aloud, _A Separate Peace_ made much more exciting by the voices each took on. Bill’s reading was always more theatrical, with exaggerated accents and hand movements to match his words, it took everything Dipper had not to laugh. When it came to be Dipper’s turn to read, it was more muted, but the same animated quality was still there, a life breathed into the characters that hadn’t been there when they’d read silently in class.

 

When the chapter was finished, Bill flopped backwards, the book splayed open on his chest, “Y’know, I think next time we should just take turns reading the narration, and for the dialogue, have assigned characters. I wanna be Gene.”

 

Snorting, Dipper shrugged, “Alright, you can be Gene. I figured you’d rather be Finny, though, he seems more you. More.. outgoing, I dunno.”

 

“I want to be Gene. For my own reasons, maybe I’ll explain later, maybe I won’t.” The finality in Bill’s voice told Dipper there was no use in asking again, the blond wasn’t one to talk when he didn’t want to, and it was obvious that he wanted to keep this little secret to himself, if only for the sake of a game.

 

“Okay, Billiam, whatever you say. You are, after all, all-knowing and great,” Fond sarcasm dripped off of Dipper’s tone as he watched Bill sit up straight, indignant at the twisting of his name, and the expression on the blond’s face alone was enough to have him laughing.

 

“Two can play at that game, Dippin’ Dot. I can throw nicknames for years, just you wait!” But Dipper was still laughing, repeating ‘Billiam’ between guffaws of laughter and renewing the peals, and before Bill even realised it, he was laughing too. Openly, genuinely laughing, so hard it almost hurt his chest.

 

How strange that sound was, how unfamiliar, but he didn’t have the presence of mind to analyse it now, he barely had the presence of breath. Laughter took so much out of him, pealing from his throat high and uncontrolled and _human_.

 

The energy expended in the laugh knocked Bill to the floor where he continued to shriek with amusement, lost in the sensation of real laughter. And he wasn’t the only one who was lost.

 

The sound, unfamiliar to Bill, was new to Dipper too, and when he’d stopped laughing, he couldn’t help but stare, surprised, at the boy curled up on the floor, mouth wide open in joy, teeth flashing and cheeks flushed from the exertion. It was a sight he would do anything to see more often, a glimpse of true happiness, not the muted version Bill showed everyone else.

 

Dipper was pretty sure it was beautiful, and he saved the memory, smiling down at Bill as the blond started to cough from a lack of breath. He offered the taller boy a hand, patting his back, “Geeze, Billiam, didn’t know all it took to kill you was a bit of a joke. Breathe, dude.”

 

And they were both laughing again until they were too tired to laugh anymore, drifting off to sleep on the living room carpet.

 

When Dipper awoke to the beeping of his phone alarm, Bill was nowhere to be found, as was normal, Dipper was beginning to realise. Bill didn’t sleep as much as he did, and seemingly woke with the sun if not before it.

 

Rubbing his eyes, Dipper got up with a stretch and walked down the hall to the bathroom when he didn’t hear the shower going. He presumed Bill was already ready, or close to it at least, and thus was surprised to see him seated on the floor, staring into the full length mirror.

 

Or, maybe _staring_ wasn’t the right word. _Grinning_ was more like it. The usual grin he tossed to everyone he passed, everyone who threw an insult his way. And he was whispering quietly to himself.

 

“I’m better than you. I’m stronger than you. I’m smarter than you. You’re nothing. Your words are meaningless because you are unimportant. I will succeed. I will flourish. I will _thrive_.”

 

Even Dipper could hear the break in Bill’s voice on the last word, a tear sliding down from the uncovered gold eye.

 

“So long as I’m smiling, you can’t hurt me and you can’t hurt them. Because I’m _better than you_ and I will _protect them_.” The grin returned full force despite the tear that still glistened on his cheek, and Bill closed his eyes for a moment before moving to get up before catching sight of Dipper in the mirror, grin falling to be replaced by embarrassment and mortification.

 

“D-dipper… I… I’m sorry you had to see that. Please, don’t mention it, it’s nothing. Just a routine of mine, just… part of my day.” He ran a hand through his hair with a short awkward burst of laughter, looking back down at the tile of the floor.

 

Reaching out, Dipper placed a hand on his shoulder, “We all have our masks, Bill, I get it. Just so long as you know you _never_ have to wear that around me, okay? Because you don’t have to prove anything to me. Ever.”

 

And Bill bit his lip and nodded, fighting back tears for a different reason now before he turned and smiled sadly, “I know. I’m… trying to get used to that. But I still have to wear it for everyone else. I… can’t face them all without it. And it’s better this way.”

 

“I trust that you know that, Bill. Just… be careful, alright? Holding that all in… it can’t be good for you.”

 

Nodding, Bill rose from the floor, dusting himself off and extricating himself from Dipper’s hand, “Don’t worry, Pine Tree, this is second nature. I’ve been doing this for a long time, I know what I can handle.” And before Dipper could say anything else, he was slipping out the door, calling over his shoulder, “Better get ready, we’ve got to leave in twenty minutes if we want to be on time for English.”

  
And Dipper was left staring at the space he’d occupied with mild concern, though he knew there was nothing to be done about it now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we'll be time skipping and I'll be adding some trigger warning tags, possibly upping the rating as well, as a warning <3


	11. Revelations and Experimentation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another trip to the Mindscape serves only to confuse Bill. He acts on a passing curiousity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for underaged drinking begins here and continues through the fic, for those who are triggered by such things. sorry for the late update, my work schedule was crazy this week.

Bill had taken measures to label the doors he’d been in before. The mansion-like Mindscape was impossible to navigate otherwise, at least for the moment. A touch of a hand to the doors after he’d opened them, and his own handwriting emblazoned a caption, blue fire that faded to gold lettering.

 

_Young girl from Connecticut, Anna. Prone to night terrors._

_Constantly peaceful and empty, no visible inhabitants. Comatose?_

_Nonsensical, the dreams of a child. Robert._

Countless doors bore these little comments, some more fleshed out than others, though they only appeared when Bill stepped up to them, flaring back to life from the otherwise ordinary doors. He hadn’t even made a dent in the number of doors there were, though, and he was certain he’d be dead before he saw every dream. There were too many, really, to ever know them all.

 

With such an expanse before him, it would be easy to never see the same dream twice, but Bill was not one for taking the easy or accepted route, and his feet took him once again down corridors that were starting to look familiar to that old looking door.

 

_‘Dipper?’_ read the caption for this one, the question mark burning brighter than the rest as he stared at it.

 

“You know, kid, you’re in my neck of the woods _real_ often. I’m starting to think you’ve got eyes on my prize.” A burst of warped laughter followed the statement and Bill spun on his heel, meeting the single large eye of the demon behind him.

 

Brow furrowed, Bill leant against the wall, “What do you mean ‘your neck of the woods’? Didn’t you say this place was ours? How is any bit of it more yours or mine if we share it? And what ‘prize’ are you talking about?”

 

“It must be really awful, knowing nothing about who you are or what you can do. Poor you. Come, let me explain it to you, so you can stop sounding so stupid.” And Bill was about to open his mouth and protest indignantly, but the triangular creature held up a hand, stopping Bill’s voice in his throat, “We share this place because we are similar. As close to the same as we could be, when we come from such different worlds. But ultimately, this place belongs to me, as I was the only one created here.”

 

Blinking, Bill’s lips pursed as he tried to think his way around the statements, “If you’re trying to explain things, you’re doing a _real_ good job. I think I’m _more_ confused than I was before.”

 

“Alright, kid, I’m gonna tell you this once, and this is all I’ll tell you. Whether or not you understand or use this knowledge is up to you, got it?” At the nod, the triangle crossed its legs and floated nonchalantly, leaning back, “Let’s start off with the String Theory. It’s true, all of it. You can look it up sometime if you want, real exciting stuff. All those universes, just hairsbreadths apart, and sometimes they knock into each other and some real freaky stuff happens. That’s always fun to watch, but I digress. _Anyway_ , the place we’re in, the Mindscape, is an outlier world. While every other world’s string goes up and down, the Mindscape’s goes across, intersecting each and every one. _That’s_ why there are an infinite number of doors, an infinite number of people, an infinite number of Pine Trees, _and_ an infinite number of _us_.”

 

“Wait, _us_? What do you mean ‘us’? We’re not the same.”

 

“Sure we are, kid. _You’re_ Bill Cipher, _I’m_ Bill Cipher, we’re _all_ Bill Cipher if we can wander these halls and call them our own. We’re just _different_ , I told you. And I’m the Mindscape’s Bill Cipher, the one who is _always_ watching, not limited by such human constraints as night and day.”

 

Done with explaining, the Mindscape’s Bill floated back a ways, raising a hand to wave goodbye, and even though he had no mouth, Bill got the impression that he was smirking. Leaving his perch on the wall, Bill reached out after him, “Wait, I’m still confused, I still have _questions_. And I still don’t know what you meant when you said ‘prize’!”

 

“Sorry, kid, story time’s over. Your sun’s gonna rise soon, and you’ve got a real world to see. And as for my prize, he’s behind that door. That one’s _mine_ , and I don’t want _anyone_ questioning that.” And for a moment the yellow bricks flared red, eye colours reversing, a white pupil in an expanse of black, before the Mindscape fell to pieces around them both and Bill woke with a start in his bed back at home.

 

And here he’d thought his sleep situation couldn’t have been more confusing, of course there was some weird alternate universe parallel worlds element to it all.

 

On the plus side, he was pretty sure he couldn’t possibly be imagining it anymore, there was no way he was creative enough for that. Also he wouldn’t replicate himself as the triangular demon he’d been drawing fairly often recently, doodles pinned to his corkboard over his desk.

 

Honestly, though, he was beginning to wish it was all just dreams. This was much more complicated.

 

Groaning, he got out of bed, throwing the covers open and meandering through his usual morning routine- the dream had shocked him awake about an hour too early and he didn’t feel like trying to sleep again, so he’d just take his sweet time.

 

Showered and dressed, he wandered out into the kitchen. His mother had coworkers over last night, some sort of business meeting-dinner party combination, but she’d still left early this morning for her flight, glasses still on the table, dishes still drying on the rack.

 

Best if he just cleaned that up now, Mother probably hired someone to come by and clean later, but Bill would rather put most of it away now while he had the time. He didn’t like leaving a messy kitchen if he could help it.

 

Whistling to himself, he took the plates from the drying rack, placing them in the cupboards before collecting the wine glasses and setting them in the sink. Five plates and four glasses, his mother never drank.

 

The wine bottle was left on the counter as well, just dredges in the bottom, not enough for a full glass, not worth saving. His mother probably intended to pour it down the sink and recycle the bottle, but had forgotten in her haste. Uncorking the bottle, he prepared to do the same before feeling a moment’s burst of curiousity and grabbing a glass, pouring the liquid in, only about a third of the way full.

 

Sniffing at the glass, he wrinkled his nose at the smell before shrugging his shoulders and downing the wine, taking it all in one gulp…. Which he instantly regretted, the taste overwhelming and causing him to cough, mouth drawn in at the slight sour taste. It was reminiscent of grape juice on a very vague level, but for the most part the flavour was entirely new, and he wasn’t sure what to think of it.

 

Bill shrugged and recycled the bottle, cleaning the glass and leaving it to dry before checking the clock. It was about time for him to start walking to school, so he grabbed his bag and his phone, locking the door behind him as he headed out, a bit of a flush rising to his cheeks and an unnatural warmth in his core.

 

Even if the taste wasn’t perfect, this after effect was pleasant, the warmth that followed him all the way to school.

 

  
“Bill! You’re later than usual, I’ve been waiting at your locker for like ten minutes, where the heck have you been?” Mabel’s hands were on her hips, her expression determined and judgemental as Bill laughed, waving her off.

 

“I had a rough morning, sorry Shooting Star. Didn’t know you were hounding my every step these days, hmm?” He leant over and lightly poked her nose, smile wide as he placed his unnecessary books in his locker, “What were you waiting for me for, anyway? Don’t you usually hang with Candy and Grenda in the mornings?”

 

In retribution, Mabel leant up on her tiptoes to bump her nose into Bill’s with a bit more ferocity before crossing her arms and sticking her tongue out, “I don’t see you as much as I used to and I wanted to say hi, you dork. It’s a big part of being friends. Also I’m eating lunch with you and DipDop today, so I wanted to make sure you knew to go to the usual place.”

 

“Gracing us with your presence, are you? Is it my birthday?” The blond’s tone was entirely joking as he idly rubbed at his face, his cheeks still a bit flushed, “You know we’ll be there, Shooting Star. Nowhere else to go.”

 

And with that, the bell rang, calling them both to their respective classes. It seemed Bill’s face still showed signs of his morning experiment, as Dipper looked concerned when he sat down.

 

“Are you sick, man? You look like you’ve got a fever or something.”

 

“No, no, I’m fine. I didn’t sleep well is all, bad dreams. And my mom’s coworkers were over last night, so it was really noisy. I’ll be better soon I’m sure, once breakfast kicks in.” Leering, Bill turned to smirk at Dipper, teeth bared, “You’re not worried about me, are you?”

 

“I guess not, if you say you’re fine. Just, I dunno, drink some water or something, you look really weird.”

  
“Thanks, Pine Tree. You look great too,” A single blue eye rolled in it’s socket as sarcasm laced Bill’s tone, though the slight upturn of his mouth took the bite out of the sentence as class started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will be another time skip~~ and a deeper delving into the alcohol scene so if you're triggered by such things, I will post safer chapters without the actual drinking scenes on my tumblr and link them here, but the actual chapters will include depictions of underaged drinking and mild alcohol abuse. I will be labeling the chapters with trigger warnings as such, thank you <3


	12. Emptiness and Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A facade can be the sharpest knife of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> important warning: there's another scene involving alcohol in this chapter, and mention of alcohol abuse. if you would like a version without this scene, please message me and i will give you a link to an alternate version~

 

“Hey, it’s your birthday tomorrow, right?”

 

Bill was wrapped up in a waterproof wool coat, standing under the awning outside the school and waiting for the twins to come out of class, rain pouring down in sheets just a few steps away. Oregon’s weather was in full swing at this time of year, the cold winds of November just beginning to blow in, adding to the bite of the ever-present rain. Dipper’s voice floated over from behind him, muted by the patter of rain on the rooftop.

 

The blond turned, nodding and shrugging his shoulders, “Yeah. ‘Sweet Sixteen’ or whatever. But I can’t hang out with you guys until Sunday, mother’s bosses are coming back with her from her last trip and they insist on celebrating my birthday with her tomorrow. Which apparently will take the whole day, somehow.” A sigh escaped him as he leant against the pillar of the entryway, hands shoved into his pockets.

 

“Sounds… fun. I guess I’ll tell Mabel to reschedule the party, then, because I think she planned on kidnapping you for the whole weekend or something,” A snort escaped Dipper and it was accompanied by Bill’s muted chuckle, thin mouth twisting up into a smirk.

 

“You know, I think ‘kidnap’ implies some lack of consent, and being taken to your house for the weekend isn’t something I would regularly protest,” the disdain at the prospect of his birthday being overrun by his mother’s coworkers was replaced with a casual sort of mischief, the sort that often glinted in his eye these days.

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let her call it what she wants, or she’ll probably make that face at you until you feel like you’ve killed every puppy on earth,” and both of them were chuckling, knowing exactly the face, when she appeared at Bill’s elbow, smile wide.

 

“Biiiiill, you’re coming with us. C’mon, let’s get going before this rain gets worse! I have lots planned, you’re gonna be _sixteen_ aren’t you excited? I’m excited.” Mabel was already tugging at his arm, trying to pull him out from under the awning, but Bill’s smile had fallen and he held his ground, shaking his head.

 

“Sorry, Shooting Star, but I’m gonna have to take a raincheck. Mother and her bosses are commandeering me tomorrow, and I don’t have a say in it. But you’ve got me all of Sunday if you have to drag me out of their clutches, I promise,” the attempted joke fell a little flat, but he forced a smile to get through it as his mother’s car rolled up, signaling the beginning of his birthday adventure. He pulled Mabel into a hug, ruffling her hair before doing the same for Dipper, tossing them both a grin, “See you Sunday? I expect cake, and lots of it, alright?”

 

Mabel looked like she was on the verge of tears, both angry and disappointed, at the adults’ interference with her plans, but she nodded, knowing Bill couldn’t control it and time spent with his mother was rare enough as it was, “You bet, you big dork. I’m gonna _bury_ you in cake and you’re gonna _like it!_ ”

 

The slightest hint of a laugh escaped Bill as he ducked into the car, “I look forward to it.”

 

And then the window rolled up and he was driving away, his mother telling me about the people who would be at the house, her regional managers. They were apparently all very excited to meet him, and glad to spend his birthday with him. Bill responded to everything with polite smiles and nods, he understood that this was important for his mother as well- keeping their opinion of her high was vital these days, and if he could help, he was expected to.

 

Bill sighed almost inaudibly and resigned himself to a full twenty-four hours of pretending, without a break to himself. He would have to be perfect for them.

 

As expected, the compliments and questions started the moment he stepped in the door. A man and a woman- he didn’t even catch their names- were bombarding him with queries, occasional comments thrown in between them,

 

“Oh, he has such a cute face, Amelia! I bet he’s a real ladies man.”

 

“Do you have a girlfriend, son?”

 

“Where are you planning to head off to college?”

 

“Aren’t you excited to get your license soon?”

 

Bill plastered a polite smile to his face, waving off the compliments as he set down his bag, “No, I don’t have a girlfriend, and I haven’t decided where I’m going to school, I’m just a junior after all. But mostly I’m looking at local schools, I don’t want to go too far.” At the last question, he let loose a perfected casual laugh, brushing his hair out of his face to reveal the eyepatch, “And I’m afraid I won’t be getting my license any time soon, they tend not to give those to people who are legally blind in one eye.”

 

A chorus of apologies came from the pair of strangers before Bill shrugged them off again, laughing as if nothing mattered.

 

The rest of the evening passed much along the same lines, but blessedly, both his mother and her bosses were exhausted from their business trip and retired early. When the two strangers were set up in guest rooms, Amelia came back to the kitchen, leaning down to press a kiss to blond locks of hair in thanks for the effort Bill was putting in for her, and Bill flashed her the smallest of smiles before she, too, spirited off to bed.

 

With his audience gone, Bill let the smile fall from his face, replaced with an expression that was mostly blank, but a sort of horror lingered in his eye, dead and glassy. He had another whole day of this to go through, a whole day of pretending everything in his life was perfect and he hadn’t a care in the world, a whole day spent with people he didn’t know and didn’t trust asking invasive questions.

 

The very concept had his heart racing, terror under the blank facade, hands shaking. Trying to calm himself, he took deep breaths, but despite himself, his eyes wandered to the black wooden cabinet, glass door kept clean despite its rare use.

 

That use had only become ‘rare’ rather than ‘nonexistent’ in the past year or so, and Bill was grateful that one of the jobs his mother hired out was maintenance of the liquour cabinet. None of men who came in with bottles of wine and vodka asked who was drinking it, they assumed his mother was simply hosting more parties than usual, and Bill didn’t give them reason to think otherwise. She just signed the bills and wrote them off, she hadn’t actively took an inventory in years.

 

Good thing, too, or Bill would have had another thing coming.

 

Wandering over to the cabinet, he pulled a bottle of vodka down, not bothering to check the brand or the label- it didn’t matter so long as it was 80-proof and within reach. He pulled a tumbler down from the shelf and poured a generous amount of vodka in, downing it in a single gulp and gasping as it burned its way down like acid and gasoline, a match struck in the cold abyss of his core.

 

He could get through tomorrow, for his mother. He could and he would, and then everything would be okay on Sunday when he went over to the Pines house. He’d gone through more and for longer periods of time and less important reasons. His mother needed this to go well, and thus, it would.

 

If he needed a little help getting through the day, who needed to be any the wiser?

 

The thought echoed in his head as he took his water bottle from his backpack, dumping the juice he still had left in there from the morning and rinsing it before filling it halfway with vodka and returning it to the fridge.

  
Despite the thrill of having feeling in his core again after the empty hours he’d spent smiling for his mother’s bosses and the sound reasoning he’d applied to it all, Bill couldn’t help but feel a deep, shameful guilt, eyes lingering on the family portrait collecting dust on the mantle before he sighed and went off to bed, the alcohol helping him drift off into a swift sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm very excited about the next chapter


	13. Adventures of All Sorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Bill's dreams are more than what they seem... and maybe he isn't coping as well as he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE THAT THE END OF THIS CHAPTER IS ANOTHER GRAPHIC SCENE OF BINGE DRINKING. If you are triggered by this, please message me and I will provide you with an edited chapter so as to prevent any potential panic attacks. Thank you <3

Bill was idly doodling in his journal as the sun shone, pale and weak in the white sky. Spring was trying its hardest to push out the winter, but with Oregon’s near-perpetual rain, it was fighting a losing battle. At least the ice was starting to thaw earlier in the day, though cardigans and sweaters will still entirely necessary.

 

Or, as was the case today, a jacket he’d surreptitiously stolen from Dipper after being loaned it for a walk home one night. It was warm and heavy and smelled like a mixture of the detergent Stan bought on sale at the local market and the natural scent Bill associated with Dipper. It smelled safe. And Dipper hadn’t taken it back yet, so Bill assumed his theft was allowed.

 

The sketches in Bill’s notebook were progressively more detailed with each one: a grove of trees, a scene of fairy folk dancing around Mabel, Dipper with his face shaded by his hat, expression thrown into shadow. All were scenes he’d witnessed recently in the Mindscape; he’d learnt that passing out resulted in being dropped into familiar dreams, and it seemed that his most visited were the Mabel and Dipper he didn’t personally know, but watched in intrigue.

 

Their world seemed so much more interesting than his. So much more vibrant.

 

“I didn’t know you liked to draw, Bill,” Dipper’s voice was quiet from behind Bill and the blond jumped, surprised by the sudden statement. The notebook fell from his hands, splaying open on the ground, and Dipper reached over to grab it, flicking through the pages.

 

Bill’s face was flushed at the cheekbones and the ears and he ran a hand over messy locks of hair, shrugging further into Dipper’s jacket, “O-oh, it’s nothing. Just something I picked up recently, something to pass time, you know.”

 

Brown eyes flickered over page after page of the art, interest clear on his face as Dipper looked over the drawings. A good number featured himself or Mabel, some both, and a repeating motif of mythical creatures and a triangle with an eye in the middle watching from afar. Or, usually, anyway.

 

One picture featured the triangle right behind a silhouette Dipper assumed to be himself, the singular eye emblazoned on his hat in place of the blue tree that usually graced the front. It was unsettling, to say the least.

 

Skipping to the next page, Dipper caught sight of something familiar, a drawing of a book with a hand on the front, “Wait, Bill, how did you know about this? Grunkle Stan just found it in a box last week, I’d been meaning to show you but stuff got in the way… But… this is dated back in January…”

 

“I-I dunno, I just saw it in a dream. That’s what a lot of this is, stuff I’ve seen in my dreams. Maybe I’ve got future vision or something, huh?” Bill’s laugh was nervous as he shrugged his shoulders, hands spread wide in confusion. It wasn’t like the Mindscape was something he could actively discuss, even with his closest friends. “What’s in it?”

 

God, he hoped it wasn’t like the other Dipper’s journal. God, he hoped this world was safer.

 

“Weird, dude. You should try dreaming of the lottery number sometime, Stan might even give you a cut of the profits,” and just like that, the moment of awkwardness passed, both Bill and Dipper laughing at the prospect of Stan ever doing something so ludicrous as sharing money. “A bunch of cool magic stuff, I think those fairies you drew Mabel with are in there. Apparently my other great uncle wrote it before running away. Stan says he was always a little strange, thought it was all real. The journal’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Are you busy today after school?”

 

It took a lot of the old mask Bill used to wear to stop the trepidation from showing on his face at the prospect that this journal might be the same- sure he loved the concept of that other world, but he’d seen how many close calls those twins had, it was the last thing he wanted for _his_ Pines.

 

     When had they become “his”, anyways?  
                Was it when the Dipper he always saw in dreaming was revealed to be the other Bill’s?

 

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he raised an eyebrow with skepticism, “Oh, let me check my schedule. I _might_ be able to pencil you in between staring at my wall and challenging myself to a breathing contest,” the cool sarcasm melted to a smile as Bill shrugged, “You know I’m never busy, Pine Tree, why?”

 

“Well, I know Stan said it was all fake, but I kinda wanna go out and look for myself, you know? Some of it seems really cool, and I want to see if its real. So I thought maybe you’d like to come with me, because Mabel’s going shopping with Pacifica and told me not to expect her home....”

 

The pit of Bill’s stomach was tying itself into knots but he grinned, nodding, “Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Pine Tree~! What’re we gonna go looking for?”

 

“I dunno, I was thinking we could just pick a page and go for it, what do you think?” Dipper looked almost shy at the prospect, but was smiling nonetheless.

 

Holding a fan out, Bill nodded, smiling, “Alright, but you owe me food for all this romping around in the woods we’ll be doing. Deal?”

 

Dipper was quick to take his hand and shake it, nodding good naturedly, “Deal.”

 

And if there was something strangely familiar about the action, Bill shook it off, putting his notebook back into his bag as the bell rang signaling the return to class.

 

The rest of the day passed in a mixture of anxiety and anticipation for Bill, who was equally excited and terrified by the prospect that the same magic that clearly doused the world of the other Pines twins was present in his.

 

He waited for Dipper at their usual spot, leaning up against the pillar at the entrance to the school, one leg bent with the foot pressed up against the stone pillar.

 

“...Is that my jacket, Bill?” Dipper was looking at the red zipup hoodie, not something Bill would have opted to buy for himself, certainly, and Bill shrugged, waving a hand.

 

“You let me borrow it, I still need it. I’ll give it back when that’s no longer true.” And that was all the reasoning Bill gave, pushing off the pillar and jumping down the stairs, not waiting for an indignant looking Dipper to catch up before starting down the road to Dipper’s house.

 

The walk to Stan’s house was a mixture of amicable silence and idle questions about how classes had gone, how Amelia was doing, small chat that mattered little, just something to pass the time.

 

Once inside, Bill and Dipper leapt up the stairs, Dipper clearly excited to show Bill the inside of the journal, even if the blond somehow had foreseen its existence. Bill settled himself cross legged on Dipper’s bed as the brunet crawled underneath, pulling the journal out from a box. It looked just like the one Bill remembered from the other Dipper’s room, staining and all.

 

“You wanna do the honours of flipping to a page, Bill?” Dipper was holding the journal out to him as he joined Bill, sitting across from the blond on the bed, but Bill shook his head.

 

“Nah, it’s your book, Pine Tree. First adventure’s all yours for the choosing.”

 

With a flip through the book to a random page and a collection of necessary items- a flashlight, a camera, the journal itself, rope, and snacks- the two were ready to set off and search for the nymphs that lived in the pond behind Stan’s house. There was no beaten path here and both had to be careful not to slip on the mossy rocks and logs that made up the majority of the forest floor. Spring was a very wet season, and dangerous because of it, but according to the journal, that made it the best time to go looking.

 

A few slips and slides later, they found themselves staring into the pond that formed at the base of a small burbling waterfall. The edges were shallow, but Bill could tell from here that the center was deceptively deep, unable to see the rocks and plants on the bottom.

 

Dipper knelt down at the edge, fingers trailing in the water as he looked at his own reflection, “The journal doesn’t say anything about how to get the nymphs to come to you, just that they will. Do we just wait?”

 

Sitting down beside him, Bill pulled out his notebook and a pencil, nodding, “Probably. They’re not used to us, after all, gotta give them some time.” And with that he began to sketch the area around him, a reference in case he ever ended up here in the strange half-lucid Mindscape wanderings he made while recovering from binges.

 

Dipper was nodding off with the sun’s falling, head resting idly on Bill’s shoulder. The blond had given up on drawing when it was too dark to make out details and had resigned himself to being a pillow. He was getting ready to shake Dipper awake and suggest they head home and return another day when a loud splash drew his attention.

 

“Pine Tree, I think someone’s here to see us,” Bill’s voice was a whisper but it roused Dipper who already had the camera out, ready to snap a picture as the water rippled all the way up to them before a figure formed out of the water, entirely fluid and translucent.

 

“It’s not often we get visitors here… It has been decades, even, since someone sat at our doorstep. Tell me, boys, what brings you here?” The voice was musical, neither male nor female, but entrancing either way.

 

Standing, Dipper dusted off his pants before ruffling his hair anxiously, “Well, y’see, we found my great uncle’s old journal and he mentioned you guys living here, so I wanted to see if you were real. And… and you totally are.. Wow.”

 

And if the voice was entrancing, the laugh that bubbled up from their mouth was absolutely captivating, hand extended to Dipper, “Indeed. We are as real as everything else here. Well met, relative of one who visited before. Did he tell you of the wonders of our palaces? I can show you it all, if you’ll just walk with me.”

 

Dipper was reaching out for their hand when Bill yanked him back, fear finally beating out the excitement, “Dipper, maybe you shouldn’t. It’s getting late, Stan’s gonna wonder where we are. And walking home in wet clothes wouldn’t be fun, now would it?” The blond’s expression betrayed a more urgent sort of concern than the ones he voiced, but the last thing he wanted to do was offend the nymph, who already looked miffed at the prospect of losing their captive audience.

 

Frowning, Dipper sighed before agreeing with a nod, “You’re right. I’m sorry, I can’t come visit today, but I’ll come back, I promise. I want to see it all, really.”

 

If the bubbling water at their feet was any indicator, the nymph was not pleased with the decision, and Bill was already pulling Dipper along after him as swift as he could when they began to hiss and shriek in anger, water lapping up farther on the banks.

 

_“He said the same thing! And he **never** came back!”_

 

Bill ran as fast as he could, tripping more than once as he dragged Dipper behind him, the only thought on his mind getting as much distance between them and that pond as possible. He only stopped when the house came into view, breath coming in short pants.

 

“What _was_ that? How did you know something was wrong?” Dipper was panting too, bent over at the waist to catch his breath.

 

“Don’t know. I just knew if you went down there, I might never get you back.” A shudder rolled down Bill’s spine at the thought, no, the _knowledge_ that he came close to just that, and Bill knew he wouldn’t be sleeping well tonight. “H-hey, do you think Stan would mind giving me a ride home? I don’t think I can walk after that, and I’ve gotta be around tomorrow morning to let in the housekeeping ladies…”

 

“Yeah, of course. He loves every excuse to drive at illegal speeds down residential streets.”

 

And laughter tried to patch up the fear lingering between the two of them.

 

That evening saw Bill crack open a bottle of whiskey, grateful for the burn on the way down that shook off the ice and the lingering psychological sensation of how cold that water would have been as it swallowed Dipper up.

 

His mother didn’t come home that weekend, she usually didn’t, and Bill didn’t usually mind. But as he sat down to breakfast-turned-dinner at 6pm Saturday evening, he wished she was there. His sleep had been fitful at best and he’d awoken with a pounding headache, a combination of the hangover and the fact that every single dream he’d been thrown into had transformed into a nightmare with his innate negative energy.

 

It was awful, knowing others suffered and lost sleep over his pain. And he was determined not to let that happen tonight.

 

If he drunk himself into a stupor, he wouldn’t be coherent enough in his sleep to even navigate the Mindscape, let alone affect anyone in it.

 

Glass after glass of wine was paired with his dinner and he chased the meal with enough shots of vodka to get the room spinning. He switched between laughing hysterically and crying, tears pouring from the corners of his eyes the entire time as he collapsed onto the floor, vision blurred.

 

He had never hated himself more.

 

Shaking fingers reached into the pocket of Dipper’s jacket, still unreturned, and pulled out his phone. Thankfully, Dipper was first on his emergency contact list and didn’t require dialing, just a single touch of his picture and a pressing of the phone to his ear.

 

It was nearing 2am, but Dipper picked up nonetheless.

 

“Bill?” The other boy’s voice was heavy with sleep and confusion as he answered, “Is something wrong?”

 

The question alone was enough to rip a sob from Bill’s chest as he cradled the phone closer to his ear, _“I don’t wanna end up like him!”_

 

“End up like who? And why are you crying? Are you okay?” Dipper was instantly awake, already pulling on his shoes across town.

 

“C-can you… can you come here? I… I need someone right now…..” And with that, Bill dropped the phone, curling up into a ball of sick, shameful sobs.

 

Dipper scrawled a quick note to Stan before grabbing the keys to the car and hopping in, his grunkle would understand. Probably. And if not, Dipper would take whatever punishment, Bill sounded on the verge of something terrible, and Dipper didn’t want to be too late to stop him.

 

He was very glad Bill had given him a key to the house.

 

It wasn’t hard to find Bill once he’d closed the door behind him. The sound of sobs was the only sound in the house, aside from Dipper’s gasp when he came into the sitting room to find Bill curled up beside a half empty bottle of vodka, the wine bottle on the table nearly empty as well.

 

“Bill? Bill, can you hear me?” Dipper knelt down next to the blond, rubbing his back and trying to catch his eye, “If you can hear me please tell me, Bill. Please, be okay…”

 

“P-Pine Tree?” Bill’s voice was slurred and hoarse from crying, but hearing it had a sigh of relief escaping Dipper as he pulled his friend into a hug.

 

“I thought I’d lost you for a second, Bill. You weren’t answering your phone, and I didn’t know what you meant about “ending up like him”...” But his questions would go unanswered tonight, it seemed, as Bill had promptly passed out in the arms of a person he trusted. Remembering the health classes they’d taken as freshman-joking the whole time about how they’d never need to use the information- Dipper made sure Bill was resting on his side to prevent potential aspirating.

 

While Bill slept, Dipper went about cleaning the mess he’d made in his drunken fit, cleaning up the broken wine glass where it had fallen from the table and emptying the partial bottles of alcohol before placing them in the recycling and returning to sit beside Bill, running fingers through blond hair in what he hoped was a soothing motion.

 

“We’re gonna get through this, Bill. I’m not going to let this take you away from me. I promise.”

  
  
  
  



	14. Heartfelt Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Bill's episode unfolds, in more worlds than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning for a mention of past alcohol-related death in this chapter.

Bill’s eyes opened to blank white, no discerning features, just white floors and empty, white space. He wasn’t sure if there were walls or if the whole place was so empty that the light could find nothing to cast into shadow. Either way, it was unfamiliar and unnerving.

 

He’d never seen this place, if it was a place at all… What had landed him here?

 

“You know, kid, you’re real pathetic. You looked promising at first, but you can’t handle this, can’t even handle your own world. You don’t _deserve_ the Mindscape.” The other Bill’s voice from behind him had Bill scrambling up and turning, wanting to put space between himself and the triangular demon.

 

“W-where are we? What happened to the Mindscape? And what are you talking about?” There was clear fear in his voice, but Bill tried to push it out, indignation taking its place as he narrowed his eyes at the floating triangle, “You said it yourself, the Mindscape is _all of ours._ What makes _you_ fit to decide who deserves it?”

 

The demon floated closer, eye narrowed, and for a moment it flashed red before regaining composure, “You’re still _in_ the Mindscape, kid. This is what happens when everything falls away. When you can’t get to the dreams, you’re left in _our_ dreamscape. And, as you can clearly see, we don’t _have one_. You passed out and locked yourself out of the corridors, because you’re _weak_ and _human.”_ With or without a mouth, Bill could tell that the demon was sneering down at him, “And trust me, if I could keep you out, I would, but I _can’t_ and so I have to put up with your _stupid human flaws.”_

“You know what, I don’t have to put up with this. You’re a _demon_ , you don’t _understand feelings._ And I don’t have to listen to you _belittle_ me for things I _can’t help_. So why don’t you _fuck off_ and _mess with someone else?”_ A crackle of blue lit Bill’s fingers for a moment and he turned his back on the demon, throwing a door into the Mindscape proper open through sheer force of will, that same blue fire trailing his footsteps as he stepped through the door, slamming it behind him.

 

Tiny black fingers snapped, fire summoned above them, and if the demon had a mouth, he’d be smirking, “That’s better. Anger’s a much better response than complacency. I hope you learnt a lesson, kid.”

 

And the white space faded away as the demon slipped through his own door back into the dream corridors of the Mindscape.

 

Despite himself, Dipper had fallen asleep with Bill’s head in his lap. Not a deep sleep, just a fitful rest, head lolling back against the wall, but enough to be woken when Bill stirred with a groan of discomfort. Brown eyes blinked open and Dipper sat up from his slouch, instantly concerned again.

 

“Bill? Are you alright? Can you hear me?” A thousand questions came to mind but Bill simply stood up, one had held to his head, the other holding up a finger in a gesture indicating Dipper wait. The brunet sat and watched as Bill wandered to the kitchen, stumbling once or twice before he pulled down a packet of seltzer, pouring it into a glass of water and downing that long with a couple of aspirin.

 

Morning ritual complete, Bill walked slowly back to Dipper, hunching his shoulders into the stolen jacket he was still wearing as he sat down, not looking his friend in the eye. Instead, Bill chose a spot on the floor to focus on, picking at the carpet.

 

“Hey, Bill… I mean… I know you’re not alright… but… can we talk? About whatever that was last night?” Dipper scooted a bit closer so that he could sit next to Bill and place a hand on his knee, not sure how comfortable the other boy would be with being touched at the moment.

 

Bill ran a hand through his hair, brushing it over his pale gold eye before he looked over at Dipper, a melancholy grin on his face, “I’m sorry you had to see that… I… I needed someone last night and you were the only person I could remember.” The chuckle that passed his lips was nervous as he shrugged, pursing his lips.

 

“If… if you don’t mind me asking. What did you mean when you called me? That you ‘didn’t want to end up like him’?” The shadow that fell over Bill’s face at the question made Dipper regret asking, but he couldn’t take it back now as the blond started to laugh with a sardonic sort of emptiness.

 

Before responding, Bill stood up again, walking over to the mantle and picking up the picture hidden in the back, setting it down in Dipper’s lap as he resettled next to the brunet, “I meant my dad. That’s him, and it’s all I have of him, really. Aside from my room, mom says he painted it the way it is, with the gold and the triangles. That’s why I’m so attached to keeping it the same, even though I’ve changed the furniture a few times…”

 

Looking at the picture, Dipper smiled at the little boy who was clearly Bill if the blond hair and the bandana tied around his head were any indication before taking note of the man behind him, that same shock of blond hair visible on his head, “You look a lot like your dad, I never noticed. Well, I mean, I never looked closely at this picture.”

 

“Mother prefers that people don’t. It’s the only one she keeps on display, and that’s because I’m in it. She doesn’t even look at it herself,” Bill sighed, tapping the glass over his father with a frown, “When I was nearly four, my father left the house to get some groceries for my mother. He’d been drinking, and badly, and it was the last time he left the house. The last time he did anything. He was so drunk he drove into oncoming traffic, the medics said he was killed instantly. My mother cried for weeks and cursed his name and every alcohol under the sun. She swore to never take so much as a sip of wine again…” There was that laugh again, utterly humourless as Bill gestured to himself, “And then there’s me, putting him to shame by following in his footsteps because I _can’t help myself.”_

 

Slowly, giving Bill ample time to pull away should he want to, Dipper pulled the blond into a hug, rubbing his back, “Hey, hey, don’t put yourself down like that. We’re in our teens, Bill, it’s not like you’re looking back on decades you’ve lost. You’ll get through this, you’ve gotten through worse… And I’m gonna help you. You don’t have to face this on your own.”

 

Relaxing into Dipper, Bill rested his head on his friends shoulder with a despairing sigh, shaking his head, “This is something I should have to face on my own, it’s all my fault. It’s my failure, no one else’s, that I turned into this.”

 

“You didn’t ‘turn into’ anything, Bill. You’re still you, through and through. You’re just going through a rough patch, and I’m not letting you do it alone. Next time you’re feeling like this… Call me right away, okay? I.. I don’t want you drinking alone in your house. It’s dangerous, and I don’t want to wake up one day to hear you ended up in the hospital, okay?”

 

Snorting, Bill nodded, “You’re too good to me, Pine Tree. I don’t deserve that much concern, you know that, right? But… I’m not gonna turn down that offer. It felt better with you here... “

 

“Then I’ll be glad to come again, and again, and again, when you need me to. And we’re gonna beat this, I promise.” Mirroring Bill’s action from the day before, Dipper put out a hand as Bill pulled away, wiping the tear tracks from his eyes, “And if you’re feeling bad about it, just help me with that pre calculus test we have coming up and it’ll be even. Deal?”

 

Bill’s smile was watery, but it was a smile nonetheless as he took Dipper’s hand, shaking it, “Deal. And I’ll be helping with more than just one test, seriously.”

 

“Alright, I’m not gonna say no to some help. Because if I see one more page in that book about triangles and trigonometric identities, I’m going to scream, but you seem to get it all like it’s nothing. It’s like you’re the triangle whisperer or something,” the joke had its intended effect as Bill snorted, laughing and placing a hand over his face in indulgent fondness.

 

“‘Triangle whisperer’? Really, Pine Tree? I better trademark that, might be useful to me later,” Bill reached for the TV remote, placing it in Dipper’s lap to replace the framed photo, which he stood up to replace on the mantle, “Wanna just chill and watch something for a bit? Meds haven’t really kicked in yet and I don’t wanna see the sun just yet. It’s bad enough with my eye, a hangover really doesn’t help matters.”

 

Dipper nodded, scrolling through channels until he found an old cartoon they’d used to watch back in middle school and patting the floor next to him, “Sure. I’m always up for a morning filled with mindless television, and Mabel won’t be home until the afternoon anyway, so no one will miss me. I left a note for Stan.”

 

Photo returned to its place, Bill resettled himself next to Dipper again, resting his head on Dipper’s shoulder with a sigh as he turned to watch the TV, lips quirked up just the slightest bit, “Thanks. For all of this.”

  
“Don’t mention it, dude. That’s what friends are for, especially best friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update should be Monday or Tuesday, as this weekend I'm quite busy with work and personal stuff alas.


	15. Mischief and Misunderstanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mabel and Bill decide to play a little game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, I had some personal business to attend to~

It was a rare, warm, spring day in Gravity Falls, the sort of day when everyone sat outside to enjoy the sun before it got too hot. The rain stopped and the denizens of Gravity Falls High School crawled out of the woodwork, heading for the field for impromptu games of ultimate frisbee or basking in the sunlight to melt off the chill of winter- and maybe get some semblance of a tan.

If your name was Bill Cipher, you were a part of the second group, settled on a cement ledge and leaning back, face up to the sky, eyes closed. The light reflected off Bill’s bright, windswept blond hair and turned it into a halo of golden wisps around his head, cheekbones thrown into relief by the odd angle of the light.

He couldn’t see the sun in its full glory, would never be able to thanks to his yellow eye, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t take full advantage of the wonders it could do. So long as he kept his eyes closed, he could feel the warmth on his skin and know that he looked untouchable, he was untouchable.

“Hey dweeb, I’ve been calling your name since I was like, halfway across the field, didn’t you hear me?” Ah, and there was one of the two exceptions, naturally, come to disrupt his illusion. Bill looked down from the sky, blue eye slitting open as his hair fell to cover his eyepatch again, a smirk on his face.

“Good afternoon to you too, Shooting Star. Your day’s going well, I see,” he patted the cement next to him in a gesture that she should join him before pointing to the aggressive frisbee match taking place no more than a hundred feet away, “Sorry, I had my noise-cancelling jocks enabled, couldn’t hear you.”

Mabel crossed her arms and cocked one hip to the side, giving him a skeptical look with an eyebrow raised before she dropped the act, giggling, “I think that’s dork for ‘I was sunbathing and couldn’t bother to look up.” When Bill shrugged in response, she laughed again before contemplating the cement on either side of the blond, “Rude, you stole the best piece of ledge. Shouldn’t you be offering the lady your seat?”

“Only if there were no other seats available, my chivalry doesn’t extend to picky ladies. This cement is perfectly fine, I assure you,” a chuckle escaped Bill’s lips before being cut of by a yelp of surprise as Mabel perched herself on one of his legs, successfully sitting on nearly half of his lap and facing toward the frisbee game, a smug set to her shoulders, “Hey, I’m not a chair, Shooting Star.”

“You are when you’re sitting where I wanna sit, Bill. Staying there basically guarantees I’m gonna sit on you, you should know that by now,” Mabel was entirely unapologetic as she settled herself comfortably on his thigh, making certain he wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon, “And now _I_ get just the right amount of sun, and the perfect view of the game, and _you_ don’t have to move for me. Everyone wins!”

Resigned to his fate, Bill breathed a long-suffering sigh before resting his head against her back for a moment, shaking his head, “Whatever you say, Shooting Star, but if my leg falls asleep, you’re carrying me to class.”

The approaching sound of raucous laughter came as a precursor to the jeers and catcalls as another group of people came over the hill to joined the frisbee game, likely having eaten something first as opposed to coming straight out. But Bill and Mabel being right in their way gave them a good excuse to make a pit stop.

“Eyy, Psycho Cipher gettin’ some, good on you man! Not a bad choice, either.”

“Where’s Thing Two, aren’t you three some sort of set? Isn’t he gonna be jealous that you’re spending more time with her? You might lose your boyfriend, Cipher. Better watch your back.”

“C’mon, Cipher, tell us, do you fuck’em both at once? Or do you take turns?”

For a moment, Bill’s expression was the epitome of disgust and annoyance, but he quickly pulled up a grinning mask, wrapping an arm around Mabel’s waist and turning to look at them, “Wouldn’t _you_ like to know, Xanders. Must be hard, seeing someone getting twice as much as you, and from all sides. Come by some day, I’ll give you a lesson or two, if I’m in a good mood.”

It didn’t take Mabel long to catch on to the game, the dark haired girl leaning back and resting her head against Bill with a laugh, rolling her eyes at the boys, “Oh, you wouldn’t do that. It’s much better to keep them all _guessing_ about what we do at night, hmm?”

And they laughed in unison to drown out the wolf whistles and cat calls that followed the boys down the hill to the frisbee game, where surely the group currently playing would soon learn the scandalous ‘news’ of Psycho Cipher’s relationship with both Pines twins.

Dipper walked up just after the confrontation, face scrunched in confusion both at the sight of his sister on Bill’s lap and the fact that the two of them were giggling hysterically, shaking their heads.

“...Obviously I missed something. Do I get an explanation?” And the other twin was just putting his books down when two hands grabbed him, pulling him over onto the other half of Bill’s lap, in a much less graceful position than Mabel, “What gives, guys? I almost fell.”

“Fell for _me,”_ Bill’s voice was singsong and amused as he wrapped his free arm around Dipper, pulling the other twin in a bit closer, “I have _news_ , did you know I’m in a polyamorous relationship with you and your sister? Because I didn’t, but I _do now.”_

Blinking slowly, Dipper turned to look at Bill with even more confusion than before, eyes narrowed, “You’re in a what-now with who? Wait, what? We’re not… You and Mabel aren’t… What?”

Mabel began giggling again, reaching over to ruffle Dipper’s hair as Bill chortled behind the both of them, “It’s a game, bro-bro. Bill and I are gonna see how long we can keep’em all fooled, see what happens! It’ll be fun!”

“Don’t look so _worried_ , Pine Tree. If you don’t wanna play, nothing changes. They all already think we’re together, it’s _much_ easier to _keep up_ a rumour than it is to _make_ one. And everyone _important_ will know the truth,” the blond’s voice was a coo as he maneuvered his head to between the two twins, both to see past them and to be on an equal level. “No harm done, promise.”

“I still don’t get it? But, whatever, if it means you’re having fun,” And before Dipper could even finish his noncommittal shrug, Mabel shoved Bill back, hugging her brother around the waist.

“This is gonna be _so_ fun, just you wait! They’re all gonna be _speechless_ whenever they see us! And maybe now all those girls will stop following Bill around hoping he’ll ask them to prom.”

Even Dipper had to snort at that, he’d noticed the girls himself, trailing behind his best friend in a loose gaggle, smiling and waving whenever he turned around. None of them had spoken to him yet, and he wasn’t likely to try talking to them anytime soon, but it was still rather annoying to deal with them every time they walked to class, “Maybe. But probably not.”

“It’s a _real_ struggle, being as beautiful as I am. Pray you’re never graced with the burden and the gift of true beauty,” Bill snorted before shifting, leaning over to playfully kiss and pat both twin’s cheeks, “Speaking of struggles, I can’t feel either of my legs and will have to walk soon, so if my two _lovely_ lovers wouldn’t mind letting me up, I’d _greatly_ appreciate it.”

Both twins were quick to smack his hands from their cheeks and give him indulgent looks, but they were both also swift to move off him, watching in amusement as his smirk faded away to an expression somewhere between amused and agonised, plagued by the pins-and-needles sensation of blood returning to his legs.

“Next time, I’m sitting on one of you two.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect another chapter in quick succession, I'm really hyped for 16 and I've already written part of it.


	16. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill, Dipper, and Mabel have a TV marathon, and Dipper spends the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a trigger warning for underaged drinking and mild alcohol abuse in this chapter, if that content triggers you please message me for an edited version of the chapter.

Bill had set up a very complex system of signaling when all was not well behind his chipper facade. He couldn’t bear to let anyone see the emptiness behind his wild grins and theatrical laughter, and so he conveyed his troubles to Dipper through less-than-transparent means.

A note slipped in between the slots of his locker, set to fall out when he opened it. It looked to be just a simple notecard, a 3x5 card filled with Bill’s simply elegant script, a history flashcard or an english reference, anything with enough words to cover the message within. Key words were circled, and to almost anyone else, they would just seem random, words that would help Bill remember definitions and dates, but Dipper had seen enough of Bill’s codes to be able to understand it.

The blond was terribly fond of ciphers, which earned him more than a few jokes from the twins, a love to suit his name. At least the notecards didn’t involve the triangular script that only Bill seemed capable of reading. He wrote journal pages in that, and Dipper was extremely curious as to what he was hiding through an entirely language that seemed composed of triangles of different sizes and orientations- not that Bill was going to tell him anytime soon, naturally.

Dipper was always concerned by the presence of the cards, but at least they weren’t common, only every month or so when Bill had taken enough of the jeers and glares and crude sexual comments directed at him and thrown them into what Bill liked to call ‘the Void’, an internal melancholy that ‘threatened to consume him’. In his dark moods, Bill was even more cryptic than usual, but Dipper got the sense he wasn’t being metaphoric.

It was always a Friday as well, though Dipper wasn’t sure if Bill was simply being considerate of his friend’s sleep schedule, or if the spells were more prone to hitting when he didn’t have school work to keep him occupied- Bill took his studies frighteningly seriously, perhaps because he wanted more than anything to prove himself. But no matter the reason, Bill never came to school with bloodshot eyes or sunken cheeks, never called Dipper when they had class the next day, just surreptitiously placed notes in his locker on intermittent Fridays.

And on those days, if Dipper looked close enough, he could see the shadows behind the usual gleam in his blue eye, could see the strain behind the grin Bill threw everyone’s way, could hear the empty tone to his usual sharp jokes.

Today was one of those days, and Dipper flipped the notecard over in his hand, noting the little triangle with an eye in the middle that marked the card as Bill’s. He drew it on everything he didn’t have to turn in for a grade, for a reason he’d never explained. Most of the time it was drawn in a shade of yellow or gold, but sometimes Bill replaced that yellow with red, and even the smooth lines looked harsher. This card had a blue triangle, the rarest of them all. Dipper only ever saw them on the cards that ended up in his locker.

Yet another puzzle he had to solve to better understand Bill Cipher.

It was the third Friday of the month, which was already decreed as the twin’s day to troupe over to Bill’s house for a variety of television shows that they all either liked, or hated so much it was fun to watch them and poke fun. Mabel made sure not to make plans with any of her other friends on that day so as to not break the tradition, it was nice to have a day that was just for them, because their trio wasn’t quite as close as it had been back in middle school. Mabel was too social to hang around with the two most private boys in school alone, and her lunches were often split between hugs to Bill and Dipper before rushing off to drag Pacifica to sit with Candy and Grenda and plan shopping days.

But for this one day a month, Mabel made sure all else was cleared so she could curl up on the couch and laugh at the TV with her two favourite dorks.

Dipper just had to make certain she knew he’d be staying the night without tipping her off to Bill’s little problem- it wasn’t his place to talk about it.

“Hey, Mabel, you don’t mind driving home do you? I’m gonna stay the night at Bill’s tonight. He’s gonna rip my English paper to shreds and I’m gonna need to rest after that.”

A giggle escaped Mabel’s lips as she patted Dipper’s shoulder, smile sympathetic, “You’re gonna need a hospital stay, I think. I’ve seen the papers he edits for the freshmen he tutors, those things are bloodier than your nose in summer. If you need moral support, just call me, bro-bro. Or drown yourself in the ice cream Bill always seems to have on hand.”

Snorting, Dipper shook her hand off and pulled a face of mock suffering, “It is my burden to bear, having a total nerd for a best friend. But at least I know he’ll knock my grade up by a whole letter grade in grammar mistakes alone.”

“Fair enough, but the ice cream will be there if you need it, Dip’n’Dot.” And the excuse was accepted without question. Dipper was more than grateful for how trusting Mabel was, this whole thing would be much harder if she questioned his motives more often.

With everything settled, the trio made their amicable way to Bill’s house, the blond filling the silence with yet another tale of the trials and tribulations of simultaneously being the most hated and most sought after freak in school. As always, there was a bit of exaggeration to his tale, but the twins were used to Bill’s theatrics by now and could get the gist of the story while still being amused by his antics.

By the time they reached the house all three of them were laughing, bent over and holding their stomachs as Bill wandered into the kitchen to set up the snacks.

“They’re all recorded, Shooting Star. Just go for it.”

Dipper and Mabel gravitated to their usual places on the couch, one of them on each side. They left enough room for Bill to sit between them, though they both knew by now that he’d settle himself on the floor in front of them instead, for whatever reason.

Mabel selected a crime show they watched for a variety of reasons, a mutual favourite of the trio. Sometimes the gory details bothered one or another of them, but the other two were usually quick to joke about and clear up any anxiety. And the main cast was a really enjoyable group of people.

“The snacks of champions are served, “The show was just starting as Bill walked back in, placing a plate of dinosaur chicken nuggets in Dipper’s hands and a bowl of snack mix in Mabel’s before seating himself on the floor with a pained groan, looking at the screen, “Where do I sign up to have him wine me, dine me, and bend me over the nearest table?”

The chicken nugget in Dipper’s mouth fell back into his hand at the statement, just barely saved from falling onto the plate- Bill would have killed him for contaminating the bunch-, but his mouth remained open, gaping like a fish. Mabel didn’t look quite so shocked, though she couldn’t contain the laughter that burst out of her a few seconds later.

“Bill! You know there are about a hundred other ways you could have come out to us, right? Though I will commend your taste, he’s quite dashing, for a giant nerd. I don’t think he’s accepting applications for romantic partners, though,” another giggle escaped her as Bill turned back to glare halfheartedly, smacking her knee.

“Like you didn’t already know. I mean, half the school knows at this point. I thought I made it pretty obvious.”

Finding his voice, Dipper cleared his throat, finishing off the chicken nugget, “So… do you… just like guys? Or?”

Bill’s shoulders rose and fell in a nonchalant shrug, hand waving to the side, “I dunno, really. I don’t _like_ most people in general. Too much work and trust involved that I don’t feel like building. But… I think I have a preference, that’s all.” Switching his focus from Mabel to Dipper, there was a smirk on his face, but in the depths of his eye, Dipper could see the genuine fear that laced his next statement, lighthearted as it was, “You’re not gonna start avoiding me now, are you? I mean, this isn’t gonna change things.”

“No, no, of course not, man. Just. Nice to know, I guess. I didn’t pick up on all the clues Mabel did, I guess,” Dipper ran a hand through his hair nervously, but Bill just smiled genuinely and patted his knee before turning back to the television.

“It’s nothing, Pine Tree. It changes nothing. Now, c’mon, we gotta find the clues before the team does.”

And just like that, the conversation topic was dropped in favour of nitpicking the uncanny details of the murder mystery.

Nearly seven hours of television and food later- they’d ordered pizzas at some point in the evening-, Mabel was packing up to leave. She had a spa day planned with Pacifica the next day and wanted to get a relaxing night of sleep beforehand. She and Bill exchanged a friendly kiss on the cheek and she ruffled his hair before stepping out of the door.

“Don’t break my brother too bad, okay? He loves his papers.”

“I make no promises, Shooting Star. I want him to pass English, after all.”

A chorus of laughter followed her until Bill closed the door, waving through the window as she drove away.

It didn’t take but a dozen steps for Bill’s facade to crumble entirely, the smile falling from his face. He brushed his hair out of his face, untying his eyepatch and setting it on the mantle before looking at himself in the mirror over the fireplace, staring into both of his eyes and frowning at the contrast of colour and of vision quality. Two eyes were never better than one in his case, but as he usually ended up passing out in these ventures, he’d long since fell into the habit of taking the eyepatch off beforehand. It saved him the trouble of untying it with shaking fingers or waking with it drenched in sweat.

The blond walked to the liquor cabinet with a sigh, pulling out a bottle of vodka and setting it on the table. The glass was acquired next, a tumbler for the sake of saving him time. Shots were too much fun for what he had planned. He just needed a burn to fill the abyss inside of him.

Grabbing the bottle and the glass, he resettled himself on the floor, cracking it open and pouring some in with a sardonic smile, “I really will tear that paper to shreds tomorrow, I hope you know that. I’m no kinder of an editor when I’m hungover.”

“Yeah, I figured. And I’d like some evidence for my sister. I’m sure she’ll want to see just how badly I suffered at your hands,” the smile Dipper threw Bill’s way was laced with concern, as it always was these nights, but at least the darkly humourous voice meant that Bill was still with him, for the moment.

A soft snort escaped Bill before he tipped the glass back into his mouth, downing about half of it in one gulp, inhaling swiftly as it burned on the way down. A breath was all that he took before finishing the glass off, already feeling the pleasant warmth filling his core. The heady feeling and tingling in his limbs was soon to follow, he knew from experience. He also knew he had another couple of glasses before he got to the point where Dipper knew to stop him.

And he intended to use all of those glasses tonight.

By halfway through his second glass, Bill was giggling, the giddy warmth chasing the chill that pervaded his veins. Dipper knew that was one of the first signs of the alcohol really taking effect and moved from his perch on the couch to sit next to Bill. While the blond could hold his alcohol to start, once the intoxication hit him, it hit him hard, and Bill was just as likely to break out into laughter as he was to break down crying. Dipper had learnt it was better to simply be next to him in advance for whatever he might have needed.

Bill made it through his second glass without incident aside from the glassy look that came into his eyes for a moment before he shook it away, a high flush in his cheeks. He poured a slighter amount into the glass for the third time before handing Dipper the bottle, “Pro’ly best if you keep this, Pine Tree. I don’t wanna be _really_ passing out on ya.”

Nodding, Dipper placed the closed bottle out of Bill’s reach. He’d dump it out later, they had an unspoken agreement that no open, half-empty bottles would be left lying around. They were too big of a temptation, and a source of guilt for the blond.

The first half of Bill’s last glass of vodka instilled a confident sort of curiousity in him as he set his glass down, turning to look at Dipper. The brunet was just grateful that today seemed like more of a ‘fill the void’ day than a ‘drown the sorrows’. He was always frightened when Bill broke down, he never knew what to do. The giddy Bill, he could deal with.

“You know, Pine Tree… I never asked… what _you_ preferred. How.. how _rude_ of me, hmm?” The blond’s voice was slurred, but his eyes were strangely focused as he voiced his statements.

Dipper was confused nonetheless, though, the comments coming without context, “Huh? What do you mean, Bill?”

“Y’know. You know I _prefer_ guys, but I don’t know what _you_ prefer. I shoulda asked.” Bill made it seem like common sense, as if the topic was as common as asking favourite colours or foods, and it had Dipper sputtering.

Sure, Bill likely wouldn’t remember this come morning, but he still wasn’t expecting that question.

“I dunno man. I don’t think I have one. Girls are cute but some guys are too, y’know? Just. Somewhere in the middle.”

Nodding, Bill accepted the answer before leaning closer. From here, Dipper could smell the vodka on his breath, but beneath that he could smell the burnt wood smell Bill preferred for cologne and the lingering scent of his woodsy shampoo, “Some guys… How about me? Am I cute, Pine Tree?”

Pulling back a few inches, Dipper flushed a deeper red than Bill, looking away and running a hand through his hair, “Huh? Well- I mean- you’re not ugly obviously. You’ve got nice hair and your eyes are really expressive. You’re… yeah? I dunno man.”

A grin split Bill’s face at the description and he leant forward again, mouth millimetres from Dipper’s ear, “I think _you’re_ cute, if it helps any. Very cute. So cute I want to kiss you right now… Would you let me, Dipper? Would you let me kiss you?”

If Dipper had been red a moment ago, he was straight crimson now, face burning from his neck up to his ears, and the breath against his face was not helping matters. He couldn’t seem to find his voice, just turning his head slightly to look Bill in the eye, catching something he couldn’t quite read there. “I… I? U-”

It seemed Bill took his flustered stuttering as a yes, closing the distance between them and letting both of his eyes slip closed, lips pressed to the brunet’s. Bill’s lips were cool and dry and tasted like alcohol, but Dipper felt his heart kick into a higher gear nonetheless as he returned the kiss by some natural instinct he didn’t know he had.

When Bill pulled away, his mouth was still stretched into a wide smile, but the swaying in his posture told Dipper that he wasn’t much longer for the waking and  Dipper reached out, catching Bill before he could fall and placing him on the couch, a pillow under his head.

Thin, pale fingers reached out to trail down Dipper’s cheek and across his mouth before the brunet could stand to make himself comfortable on the other couch, and Dipper looked down to see the smile lingering on Bill’s face.

“G’night, my Pine Tree.”

And with that, one blue eye and one gold slipped closed, the hand falling to Bill’s side, head lolling off to the side.

Dipper stepped back, running hands through his hair in an attempt to dispel the nervous energy that he could cut with a knife. His mouth was still warm with the ghost of the kiss, his ear still burning where Bill’s breath had touched it.

His best friend had kissed him. _He’d_ kissed his best friend _back._

**  
“Fuck.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARE YOU AS HYPED AS I WAS WRITING THIS?


	17. An Unpleasant Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the anxiety of the previous night looming over his head, Dipper has some big issues to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for how late this is~~ i hope I can make up for it <3

Dipper eventually fell asleep, still bewildered and conflicted from the events of the evening as he curled up in the armchair beside the couch. It wasn’t often that Bill woke up from his drunken slumber, but when he did, it was never a pleasant waking- screams or muttered pleas and apologies with nonsense words thrown in-, and Dipper never wanted to be in another room when that happened.

 

Bill was dangerous in the space between waking and sleeping, to himself more than others. And so Dipper had taken to drifting off to sleep beside him, ready to shake Bill from his hallucinations if necessary.

 

The brunet floated in a dreamless, timeless sleep before being suddenly jolted, opening his eyes to an entirely greyscale version of Bill’s living room. Looking around with surprise, he cried out when he noticed Bill was no longer on the couch, the blankets covering cushions alone, no prone blond beneath them.

 

“Bill? Bill, where did you go? This _isn’t funny,_ if you’re playing some sort of game!” A false sort of bravado and anger attempted to cover the quiver in Dipper’s voice as he looked around, trying to find some sign of a prank.

 

A broken, distorted laugh came in response as a golden triangular outline appeared in the air in front of him, filling itself in like a series of bricks falling down into place. In no time flat, Dipper found himself face to face with the creature Bill drew sometimes in his spare time, the more detailed drawings pinned to the corkboard over his desk.

 

“I’m _always_ playing games, Pine Tree! _You_ just don’t know the rules. No one does, except for me, of course.” Clearly amused by its own comments, the demon began to laugh again, though Dipper could see no visible mouth.

 

Indignant at the condescension and vague quality to the comments, Dipper glared at the demon, taking a step forward, “Who are you? No, actually, what are you? And where’s Bill? What did you do to him?”

 

Each question was more heated than the last and each one seemed to serve no purpose but to amuse the demon more. Summoning a cane out of seemingly nowhere, the creature spun it around its hand, cackling before tapping Dipper on the head, “Why, are you searching for Bill Cipher? Because he’s _right here,_ Pine Tree!”

 

Confusion and an angered skepticism flashed across Dipper’s face before he stepped forward again, looking the creature in its singular eye, “You’re lying. I don’t know who you are or what you want, but you’re _not_ Bill. I know you know him, though. He draws you a lot when he thinks no one’s paying attention. Do you mess with his dreams too?!” The last question came as an accusation, Dipper finding in the demon a source to blame for Bill’s shadowed eyes and sleepless nights.

 

The demon put his hands up in a show of mock surrender, laughing and floating around Dipper to settle atop the couch, “Yeesh, kid, take a breath. And I thought _my_ Pine Tree had some anxieties to work out. To answer your question, I don’t _mess_ with that little failure’s dreams, I’m _trying_ to get him to reach his full potential. If he can’t handle that, if it breaks him, then it’s no fault of mine, kiddo.”

 

If anything, Dipper was more confused than he’d been a moment earlier, and angrier still at how dismissive the creature seemed to be, “Stay away from him. You’re not ‘helping’ him in any way. He’s living up to his potential on his own, he doesn’t need some talking polygon to help him.”

 

“Or _what,_ kid? Are you gonna threaten me in the Mindscape? You don’t stand a chance here, Pine Tree. Especially not with Tipsy Tiny running around trying to fix all the damage he’s caused in his escapades. Really, he should just be proud of the nightmares he’s created, he’s quite good at it when he’s not thinking about it.” Crossing its black arms behind the point of its body, the creature leant back resting on thin air without a visible care in the world.

 

A majority of the words and references flew over Dipper’s head, things to look up or ask Bill about later, but the cruel nickname didn’t fly past him, “Don’t you dare call him anything of that sort! You can’t possibly understand what he’s been through, and you don’t know anything about him! Just leave him alone, whatever-you-are!”

 

Another laugh and the dream demon was right in Dipper’s face, eye inverting in colour as the voice dropped into a much lower, more distorted timbre, “I know more about him than you think, Dipper Pines. And I know things that would _destroy_ you if you knew them.”

 

In a swift transition, the triangular demon returned to its original colour, voice back into that high, mocking tone, “And that’s my cue, you’ve gotten your hint, Pine Tree! The rest is yours to deal with, but I’m _always_ watching.”

 

And with that, Dipper jolted awake, this time to a darkened living room, light only just beginning to peek through the slits in the blinds. But at least this one was in colour, and when Dipper looked to his left, he saw Bill still lying prone in sleep, hair mussed over his face, mouth open as his chest rose and fell.

 

Getting up out of the chair, Dipper cracked his neck before walking to the bathroom, leaving the door open as he splashed water onto his face. When he looked into the mirror, he wasn’t surprised to see a hint of the hollow shadows that spoke of a poor night’s sleep. Whatever that dream was, it certainly wasn’t one that had left him well rested, nor was it one he’d be able to go back to sleep after. There were too many questions and concerns racing through his head now.

 

Dipper grabbed himself a glass of water as he returned to the living room, sipping it to soothe the tickle in his throat. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’d cried out or at the least talked in his sleep that night, and was glad Bill was a heavy sleeper when he’d been drinking. On a normal day, the blond would have been at his side in an instant asking what was wrong, Bill woke at the drop of a pin when he was sober.

 

Setting the volume low, Dipper turned the TV on to keep himself occupied for the hour or so until Bill stirred. He hoped it would ease his mind, but while the late night soap operas did help to get his mind off the haunting dream, it did nothing to lessen the anxiety he felt over the night before.

 

What was he supposed to do _now?_ How exactly was he supposed to bring _that_ up? What if Bill thought he’d taken advantage of him and was angry?

 

The hypotheticals plagued him until a pained groan from his right told Dipper that Bill was stirring, the blond burying his head further in the cushions of the couch for a moment before emerging, eyes bloodshot and shadowed. He flashed Dipper a small smile before wrapping the blanket around himself and making his way to the kitchen to procure his seltzer tablets, water, and ibuprofen.

 

For whatever reason, he preferred to do that himself rather than have Dipper set them up for him, but the brunet wasn’t going to ask.

 

Awkwardly, Dipper trailed after him rather than waiting as usual. He was expecting a comment from Bill, or questions perhaps, but the blond was focused on downing the medication with an expression somewhere between disgusted and pained.

 

“D’ya want breakfast, Pine Tree? I’m not in the mood for food, but I’ll cook you up something if you want it,” the question wasn’t unusual, and neither was Dipper’s nod and request of pancakes. They’d fallen into a routine after a few times of this, but Dipper was surprised that Bill showed no signs of anything unusual happening last night.

 

It couldn’t be that… Bill didn’t remember, could it?

 

Maybe he was just waiting until Dipper had some food in him. That would be a considerate thing to do, feed him before blowing up with anger or freaking out on him.

 

The blueberry pancakes were placed in front of Dipper before he even noticed Bill cooking them, so lost was the brunet in his own thoughts, “Thanks. You sure you don’t want any, Bill?”

 

“Nah. I’ll eat later. Right now my stomach would like a rest, that’s all.” Bill waved off the concern, sipping at a glass of plain water now that he’d finished his medication regimen, humming to himself, “Besides, it’s you who’ll need the energy. I’m tearing that paper of yours up today, bought a whole new pack of red pens just for you, Pine Tree!”

 

The use of the nickname caused Dipper to twitch, and if Bill had been looking at him instead of at his water, he’d have noticed, but thankfully the blond was distracted this morning. The creature had called him the same name, but he couldn’t let that colour Bill’s use of it. He liked the nicknames Bill used for himself and his sister, they were endearments he didn’t bestow upon anyone else.

 

Forcing a mock look of pain, he placed a hand over his heart, “I’m preparing myself for the battle even now. I may need first aid afterwards, I hope you have comfort foods.”

 

“I always do, Pine Tree. Freezer’s stocked, dino chicken nuggets and ice cream to soothe your wounds and clear your troubles,” Bill’s laugh rang out in the silence between them, posture smooth and absent of anxiety.

 

Clearing his throat, Dipper decided to address the matter himself, since it seemed Bill wasn’t going to anytime soon, and he knew that Bill wasn’t exactly the best at emotional matters, “Do you.. wanna talk about last night?”

 

Bill’s smile fell into something resembling a frown, though the confusion took the sadness from the expression, “Talk about what? I was feeling empty and needed the burn, like always… Unless you mean…” Bill got up from his chair, too anxious to sit still as he continued, wringing his hands and shifting from side to side without really looking at Dippper,  “...What I said while your sister was here? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I promise. I thought you knew, I thought you’d be okay with it. Oh, god, I’m so sorry. You’re gonna hate me now aren’t you I shouldn’t have sai-”

 

“Bill. Calm down. Breathe. I told you last night, it doesn’t bother me. You can like whoever you want, it’s not gonna change the fact that you’re my best friend. I promise. I’m here for you, whenever and however you need me to be.” Concern overpowered the disappointment that filled Dipper at Bill’s clear lack of memory of what took place after he’d begun drinking. It seemed Bill really didn’t know what had happened between the two of them, and maybe that was for the best. At least this way, their friendship wouldn’t change.

 

The look of relief that crossed Bill’s face was like a knife to Dipper’s heart, just the thought of how scared the blond was of losing him as a friend was enough to convince him not to bring the kiss up. Bill needed him as a friend and if that was all Bill wanted, then that was all Dipper would be, no matter how much he’d loved the way his heart beat fast in his chest when Bill had kissed him, no matter how pleasant the flush in his cheeks had been when Bill had called him cute.

 

“Thank you so much, Dipper… Really. Thank you. I… I don’t want to scare you away… I need you too much to risk that.” The hand that reached for his water was shaking as Bill took a sip before placing both of his hands in his lap, smiling genuinely over at Dipper, “You mean too much to me, I’d hate to lose you over something like this…”

 

Getting up from his chair, Dipper placed his plate in the sink before walking over and pulling Bill into a hug, holding the thinner boy close to him and running a hand through blond locks of hair, careful not to tangle it anymore than it was, “You don’t need to worry about that, Bill. We’re best friends, nothing, and I mean nothing will change that. And definitely not who you want to bang, dude. So long as it’s not my sister, that we’d have to have a talk about…”

 

Breaking up uncomfortable situations with jokes was something he’d picked up from Bill and it seemed to have the same effect on the blond who broke out into laughter, hugging Dipper back for a moment, shaking his head.

  
“Duly noted. I’ll be sure to come to you first if the desire ever arises. You can have my head otherwise.” When he pulled away from the hug, Bill rubbed at the corners of his eyes, wiping the tears that threatened to fall there before he pulled up a grin, grabbing the pack of red pens from the counter, “Now, I hope you don’t think being my best friend is gonna save you, Pine Tree. It’s time to get you that passing grade on this paper.”


	18. Absence Makes the Heart Fonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A summer apart from the twins sees some changes for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever, I came down with a cough and a fever that took the life out of me. Here's a much over due chapter~
> 
> Also fun fact today (august 23rd) is dipper's birthday in this fic ~~ Mabel's is the 22nd, she was born just minutes before midnight

The summer after junior year passed like a flash, largely because the twins spent a good month of it vacationing with their parents. Since both of them had decided to stay up in Oregon for college, it was the last full summer they would have with their parents, and for once, their parents seemed eager to capitalise on that.

Bill had seen them off with a wave, saying it was _their_ turn to have a fantastical summer adventure and keep _him_ updated with occasional skype messages and emails. But he got the added benefit of snapchats and pictures texted to him from Mabel, along with occasional ones from Dipper, though he wasn’t as fond of the whole thing.

The blond, on the other hand, had a rather lackluster summer. With his two friends gone and his mother out on business as always, he spent most of his days alone at home, making his way through the movies on the shelf, blowing the dust off of them and slipping them into the DVD player. He left the house to go on walks through the woods when his thoughts troubled him or when the walls seemed to be closing in on him, but that was it.

It was much easier to be a recluse than a social butterfly, and at least this meant he didn’t run into anyone from school. That would have been an unnecessary destabiliser, it was already hard enough without his friends to run to.

More often than not that summer, when Bill drank, it was until his vision darkened and his thoughts mushed together into a mix of English and the twisted language he’d picked up from the demon. And more than once he’d woken with his fingers digging into his arms, nearly drawing blood from how deep the nails were embedded.

The Mindscape was simultaneously becoming more homely and more terrifying to him with each blacked out visit. Even in his stupors he could wander the rooms now, and he was beginning to know each of them by name, know their desires and their fears, their thoughts and their worries. He was also seeing just how much his interaction with them destroyed them. He could hear their screams, he knew that behind their doors, the demon had inspired nightmares, and he could never stop himself from stepping in and trying to help.

But in his inebriated confusion, he left more destruction than salvation in his wake.

Their screams awakened him, and when Bill woke, he was screaming too.

The demon came to him fleetingly now, each time congratulating him on his work and hissing in his ear, a whisper that was simultaneously frightening and tempting.

“You could spend all of your time here, you know. Learn every nook and cranny of this place, and never have to venture back out into the other world. You’d never have to face their ridicule again, never have to look into your mother’s eyes and see the pain because every day you look more like your father. All you would have to do is take up a place here, help me rule this place, and you would never suffer at their hands again.”

In the Mindscape, the offer seemed more than kind, and Bill sat on the floor, contemplating longer and longer each time, but was always awoken before he could make a decision. Upon waking, his eyes wandered to the picture of himself between the twins and frowned. He couldn’t just abandon them for the Mindscape, no matter how horrible the rest of his life was.

His friends deserved more than that.

The night before the twins were to return, Bill got a text from Pacifica Northwest- he’d learnt earlier that summer that she and Mabel were dating, albeit somewhat secretly. Mabel wasn’t particularly good at keeping secrets, though, and had gushed to Bill over skype when Pacifica had said yes- Mabel had snapped her a picture of a message written in the sand, a heart with ‘Will you be mine?’ written inside, and Pacifica had responded positively. But Bill had promised not to tell anyone, even if he had anyone to tell- which he didn’t.

[text from: Pacifica] Hey, are you doing anything for when Mabel and her brother come home?

[text from: Cipher] Usually I go over to Stan’s house and we order food and have a little party, nothing too big, why?

[text from: Pacifica] Can I… I dunno, tag along? I.. I wanna see Mabel, I miss her.

[text from: Cipher] Yeah, sure. You gotta get there yourself, though. I can’t drive and was just planning on walking.

[text from: Pacifica] Alright. I’ll have my chauffeur drop me off around… 11? I know their bus comes in at 12.

[text from: Cipher] Fine by me. I’ll be there earlier to set stuff up, but anytime before 1 is chill. Cya then.

Bill couldn’t help but smile at his phone as he set it back down. It was sweet, how much Pacifica seemed to care for Mabel. Bill had been wary at first, but it had become clear that the wealthy girl really did love the quirky twin, and Bill was glad Mabel had someone like that. She’d been even happier than usual since the two had gotten together, it was obvious from her emails and messages.

**  
**  


Jotting a few more notes from the day down in his journal, Bill put the pen away and slipped the journal in with the rest of its predecessors before drifting off into an uneasy sleep, too excited for the following day to get much real rest.

Bill awoke before the dawn, a chill still set in his bones from the dreamscapes he didn’t quite remember. When he didn’t sleep deep enough, he just observed dreams, not fully able to influence them, but each one he’d seen was as tormented than the last. The demon was on a spree, and Bill had no way to stop him.

Not for the first time Bill thought to himself that he’d be a better guardian for the Mindscape, it would be a brighter place than the demon’s Nightmare Realm.

The blond put a bit of extra effort into dressing that day, tying his eyepatch on with a bit more finesse and smoothing his hair over it, trying to no avail to tame the natural curls and wisps that his hair flipped out into. A pale yellow short-sleeved button down and a pair of black skinny jeans with a black bowtie and black suspenders to complete the outfit.

By the time he’d smoothed his hair down for the eighth time, it was 9:00 and Bill was hurrying out of the house. Stan expected him by 9:30 at this point, and he didn’t want to be late. The old man might start decorating without him, and that could turn out to be a real disaster.

The door was unlocked when he got to the Pines’s home and he shouted his arrival, noticing that Stan had left all the streamers and balloons in the center of the living room for him.

“Decor’s all yours, kid. You’ve got a better eye for that than I do.”

Laughing, Bill raised his voice to yell into the kitchen, where Stan had takeout menus in front of him, _“Naturally,_ old man. Because I have taste!” The laugh and teasing tone took out any bite from the words but Stan sent him a dirty look nonetheless before chuckling and going about ordering the food.

Bill was precariously balanced on a stool atop a chair when the door opened and he turned, nearly falling off his perch before seeing it was Pacifica, “Geeze, you scared me! I thought Pine Tree and Shooting Star had come home early, before I was finished! Knock next time, would ya?”

“I did, Cipher. No one answered,” Pacifica’s deadpan expression matched the lack of tone in her voice as she grabbed the streamer he’d dropped and held it up to him.

Blinking, Bill frowned for a moment before shrugging, “In that case, my apologies. I’m a little preoccupied, as you can see.” Taking the streamer from her, he reached up on his tip toes to tape it to the rafter. When he leant down to admire his work, he over balanced, toppling backwards and landing with a crash.

“Mother _fucker.”_

Despite herself, Pacifica giggled behind her hand, and when Bill shot her a look, dusting himself off and complaining under her breath, she explained, “Mabel was just telling me she didn’t think you were capable of swearing. I wish I’d filmed that, she’d flip out.”

“Gee, thanks for your concern. I could have _died,_ you know. And you would have just been over there, _laughing_ because I _swore,”_ Bill’s voice transitioned from toneless to scathing as he walked over to the mirror, adjusting his eyepatch from where it had slipped and making an attempt to fix his hair again.

“Stop overreacting, Ci-Bill. If you were really hurt, I’d have called 9-1-1. And I’m pretty sure you would have said more than just ‘motherfucker’.” Pacifica stopped herself mid sentence to use Bill’s first name, and the shift didn’t go unnoticed by the blond, who stiffened momentarily before relaxing again, he’d think on the matter later.

Shrugging, he took the stool off of the chair, putting them both back in their proper places, “Whatever, everything’s all set now, at least. And the food will be here shortly, just before the guests of honour themselves, I’d imagine.”

“Maybe you should stay away from stools until then, Bill. Just in case.”

The blond’s face scrunched into an indignant frown and he bumped his shoulder into Pacifica’s, a habit he’d picked up from the twins as an expression of mild annoyance.

A knock at the door had Bill nearly tripping to reach it, gesturing that Pacifica should follow, “That’ll be the food, and I want to get it all laid out before the twins get here, because if I know anything about Pine Tree, it’s that he’ll be starved the minute he gets off that bus.”

Pacifica chuckled and shook her head, indulgent already of Bill’s antics, “Alright, I get it, you’re worried about your boyfriend. I’m antsy to see Mabel too, calm down, would you? Or you’re gonna end up hurt.”

“I’m not _dating_ Dipper, Pacifica. We’re _best friends,_ that’s all. He’s my best friend and I really miss him,” For a moment, Bill’s voice was shrill and defensive before he crossed his arms, stubbornly looking away from the other blonde.

“Whatever, let’s just set this food up, shall we?”

Bill gave the delivery boy the money Stan had left in an envelope with a soft “Thanks” before picking up half of the boxes, letting Pacifica grab the rest. The pair made quick work of setting the food on the table, all manner of the fare that Gravity Falls had to offer, pizza and chicken wings and dubious Chinese food that always managed to taste good somehow.

Even Bill was a bit hungry when they were done, and he’d forgotten Pacifica’s little comment about Dipper.

The door slammed open just as Bill set the plates down and he was suddenly glad he wasn’t still holding the cutlery as a blur of bright pink and brown ran toward him, nearly tackling him to the floor in a hug before letting go just as swiftly and actually tackling Pacifica, giggling into her neck.

“Nice to see you too, Shooting Star. Try to spare my ribs next time, would ya?” Bill made a show of putting a hand to his side, wincing dramatically before smiling at the bright smile that was now on Pacifica’s face, further proof that the blonde was just as happy to see her girlfriend as Mabel was. “Now, where’s the other one, hmm? Did you leave him behind on vacation? Forget him on a beach somewhere?”

A low chuckle from behind Bill prefaced the response, “Other one? Wow, I missed you too, Bill. And here I thought we were _friends.”_

Surprise gave way to shock as Bill turned on his heel, certain that voice couldn’t belong to his friend, and he had to stop in his tracks and look up to meet familiar brown eyes.

There was no way that was Dipper. It wasn’t possible.

Dipper couldn’t _possibly_ be that tall!

“P-Pine Tree?”

Another laugh came in response to the clearly confused question and Dipper put out his hands, “Right here, in the flesh. Weren’t expecting this, were you, Bill?” And the brunet reached out, ruffling the blond’s hair with a smirk.

“No _fair, **I’m**_ supposed to be the tall one! What the fuck, Pine Tree? I can’t be the youngest _and_ the shortest, that’s just rude!” Bill crossed his arms over his chest, glaring up at Dipper even as he took in all of the new details.

Dipper’s jaw was stronger, his hair was a bit longer, flipping out next to his ears. The little red nicks on his chin and neck meant that he was shaving. An unnamed, unfamiliar warmth lit in Bill’s stomach and he could feel his cheeks burning, but he wrote it off as jealousy as Dipper laughed again, pulling Bill into a hug that the blond couldn’t resist, resting his head on Dipper’s chest with a pout and wrapping his arms around Dipper.

“Welcome home, Pine Tree.”

“It’s good to be back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update will be two chapters~~~ and I'm really excited for them


	19. Senior Spring Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prom is in the air, and even the most stoic of people cannot help but be affected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it friends. this chapter and the next are what i have been waiting for.

“Hey, Mabel, have you seen my yellow flannel? I bought it a couple of months ago and I only remember wearing it once or twice, but I can’t find it anywhere…” Dipper was standing in front of his closet, flipping through the shirts hanging there to no avail. Reds and greens were plentiful, with a smattering of blues, but the yellow one was certainly not there.

“I dunno, bro-bro, maybe you lost it. It’s probably under your bed, but I wouldn’t go looking, you might get eaten or something. There’s _definitely_ monsters under there.” The taller twin rolled his eyes and shrugged, giving up on his search as Mabel laughed, poking her head in one last time before heading down the hall, “Better hurry up, Dip’n’Dot, or you’re gonna make us both late.”

Shaking his head, Dipper closed the door and threw off his nightclothes, finding a pair of jeans and taking a green flannel out of the closet, swiftly doing up his buttons and fixing his collar in front of the mirror. No matter how many times he put these shirts on, he always managed to fold his collar backwards, and if he made it to school looking like that, Bill would tsk menacingly before climbing onto the nearest ledge to fix it.

Somehow, the blond was even more terrifying now that Dipper was taller than him. Any surface was climbable to to the lithe blond and often Dipper would look away for an instant and find Bill hanging from a tree above him, a grin on his face. Worse still was the shock whenever his friend would jump at him, clinging to his back and wrapping legs around his waist, Bill’s head settled atop his own.

_“So **this** is what it’s like to see everything. I like it,”_ had been Bill’s comment the first time he pounced for the impromptu carry, and he’d grown fond of it since. The only time Dipper was safe was when his backpack was slung over his back, preventing Bill from getting a good hold.

But at least he’d stopped glaring up at Dipper whenever he remembered their obvious height difference. That had been unpleasant, the oddly charged atmosphere between them putting Dipper on edge. Not to mention, Bill had been awkward for the better part of the last few months, rubbing at his cheeks and flushing red in anger. Only recently had he begun to come to terms with the changes and was back to acting mostly normal, though Dipper still caught him tensing up every now and again when he spoke too close to Bill’s ear.

All Dipper could do was hope it wasn’t the fault of that demon-creature he knew was still plaguing Bill’s dreams.

Sighing, Dipper ran a comb through his hair before heading out, grabbing a piece of toast and the car keys as Mabel followed him out, both of them yelling their goodbyes to Stan as they headed off to school.

The whole school was abuzz with talk of prom, which was only a couple of weeks away now. Tickets were for sale, girls huddled in groups to swoon over the dates they would have, and according to Mabel, there was an entire facebook group devoted to making sure no two girls wore the same dress- there was something inherently taboo with that, apparently. Even the most socially isolated people- Bill and Dipper included- knew prom was approaching fast, and nearly everyone eligible was scrambling to get things ready.

The askings themselves were getting out of hand. At least twice daily, girls opened their lockers to a cascade of roses and a slip of paper, the word “Prom?” written in varying degrees of elegant script. Tears were sure to follow, the girl’s if she agreed, and the guys if she turned him down, some with kindness, some with coldness.

Bill snickered every time, hiding his amusement behind a hand or a book.

“Should really ask in private if you’re not sure if they’ll say yes.” The blond’s voice was laced with an amused sort of sympathy as yet another boy walked away with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slouched. Half a dozen had asked Pacifica this week alone, much to the amusement of the twins and the blond.

It was already established that Mabel and Pacifica would be taking each other to prom, they bought dresses months ago. Dipper had stayed over at Bill’s house for an entire weekend, because they’d littered the house with dress magazines and store ads until they found the perfect ones, and Dipper just couldn’t take it anymore. A movie marathon curled up on Bill’s couch with the blond seated cross legged in front of him was preferable to two giggling, squeeing girls any day.

Mabel wasn’t going to let it just be presumed and established, though, and she enlisted Bill to help her make preparations for a masterful asking of her own. She would show all of them what a privilege it was to date Pacifica Northwest, and throw the jeers in their faces.

Rather than sleep and wake early, Bill had elected to simply stay awake through the night, heading out of the house at four am with a second bag slung over his shoulder, filled to the brim with banners and streamers. The shadows under his eyes were purple like bruises, but there was a smile on his face. Seeing Pacifica react to this asking would be much better than a night’s sleep, even if it meant he’d suffer for it later.

Meeting Mabel at the gates of the school, Bill tossed her a grin before opening the gate- they’d stopped locking it years ago, for whatever reason. “You ready to deck this place out with a bit of colour, Shooting Star?”

“Bill Cipher, I was _born_ ready!”

A flash of conspiratorial smiles was the last communication between them as they set about their various tasks. Bill’s newly acquired love of climbing made it easy for him to string streamers from the branches of the trees in front of the school, tossing the rolls toward the end to connect the trees to the roof of the school. By the time he was done, the sun was risen and the staff was beginning to arrive, walking down the streamer-bound corridor with confusion.

“Who’re you asking, Cipher?” His English teacher asked, catching sight of him hanging upside down from the lowest branch of the tree closest to the school, finishing up the last touches to the trunk.

A laugh escaped the blond as he flipped back out of the tree, landing on his feet, albeit with a bit of a stumble, “Me? No one, Ms. Davids, but Shooting St- I mean, Mabel is asking Pacifica today.”

“Pacifica Northwest? I wish her luck, I hear that girl’s a heart breaker. Send her my love, would you?”

Smiling, Bill nodded, “Of course, Ms. Davids, but something tells me she won’t need it. Mabel’s quite good at getting what she wants.”

Ms. Davids shrugged, nodding. No one could dispute that statement if they had even the slightest notion as to who Mabel was. The both of them were laughing as she walked away and Bill stood back, hands on his hips as he admired his handiwork.

“Well, _I’d_ say yes if you were asking me like this, Shooting Star. And Pacifica likes you even more than _I_ do, so you’re a shoe-in for sure.”

Mabel, too, was finished with her part, the bouquet of roses hanging between the pillars, a note dangling from their stems with the ‘promposal’ itself.

“Thanks, dork, but I’m not asking you, so don’t get your hopes up.” Mabel stuck her tongue out at Bill playfully, and the blond placed a hand to his heart in mock distress, acting truly hurt before laughing, grabbing his bag.

“The rest is up to you, I’m afraid. I need to change into presentable clothes, can’t have everyone knowing I was crawling around in the trees at odd hours. I have an image to uphold, after all.”

“Whatever, Bill, whatever. Just be back in time to see me ask her. I need someone to take a picture, and I can’t trust Dipper.”

Winking, Bill clicked his fingers and shot Mabel a finger gun, “You betcha, Shooting Star. I’m your man.” And with that he turned on his heel, making his way into the school to change.

Mabel eyed Bill suspiciously when he returned twenty minutes later, just as the earliest students were beginning to trickle onto campus, staring at the intricate web of streamers and the hanging roses. They all knew better than to touch anything, though, with Mabel standing at one pillar and Dipper the other.

“Is that my brother’s shirt?”

Looking over at Mabel, Bill had the decency to look sheepish for about ten seconds before shrugging and smirking, “It suits me, and he has a couple dozen of these shirts, he can spare me one for when I feel like dressing down a bit. Besides, he just _wears_ them, and there’s so much _more_ to be done. Layering does _wonders.”_

The suspicion only grew stronger at Bill’s words, but now wasn’t the time to question if there was more to the shirt theft. More and more students were wandering on to campus, and Pacifica would be here soon. She ran on a very tight time clock, courtesy of her chauffeur.

Despite knowing that the answer was already yes, Mabel was rubbing her hands on the fabric of her sweater, clearly nervous, and Bill leant across the entryway, poking her nose, “Take a breather, Shooting Star, relax. Pacifica loves you, she’s gonna love _this,_ and you two already have matching dresses. She’s gonna say yes, the boys will be heartbroken. I promise.”

A smile tugged at Mabel’s lips at that, and she reached over, poking Bill’s side, “Thanks, nerd. I needed that.”

“I know, Shooting Star. I know.”

Mabel’s phone beeping interrupted the war of stuck out tongues that ensued, the alarm indicating that Pacifica would be driving up soon, and suddenly Mabel was a bundle of excitement and anticipation again, worry under the hope on her face.

But Pacifica reacted just as Bill had expected her to.

The blonde got out of the car, looking up at the trees with confusion and a bit of condescension, until her eyes wandered from the trees, catching sight of Mabel standing there, a grin on her face. When Pacifica put the pieces together, her expression turned to one of shocked joy and she ran the rest of the way up the walkway.

“Is this…. all for me?”

Smiling, Mabel pointed at the roses, “Why don’t you take the card and find out?”

And so Pacifica reached up, untying the flowers and the card attached, looking at it for only a second before she threw her arms around Mabel, the flowers still clutched therein as she peppered her girlfriend’s face with a smattering of kiss.

“Yes, _yes,_ a thousand times yes. I’d be honoured to go with you.”

And with a grin, Bill snapped a series of pictures before leaving the two of them to their celebrating, class would be starting soon, and while Mabel and Pacifica could claim the promposal as an excuse, he could not. And he’d need as much energy as possible to focus through a day of classes without sleep.

Lunch was a more eventful time than usual, a mix of glares and congratulatory smiles thrown Mabel and Pacifica’s way. And the two girls were keen to get Bill and Dipper in on the excitement, each of them glaring at the closest of the two boys.

“You’re going to prom. You already missed it last year to go looking for gnomes or something, you _can’t_ skip senior prom.”

Examining his nails, Bill raised an eyebrow, “Watch me, Shooting Star. And besides, we don’t have dates, I don’t want to be third wheeling you two all night.”

Pacifica rolled her eyes, gesturing at both of them, “You’re acting like you couldn’t have a date in an instant. _How many_ girls have asked you, Bill? Four? Five? At least? It’s not like you don’t have a line around the corner. And Dipper’s got it just as bad, if not worse.”

Both of the boys groaned in tandem, displeased at the reminder, but Dipper voiced their joint distaste, “I don’t want to take someone I don’t know to prom, or get someone’s hopes up if I don’t want to be with them. And, I definitely don’t want to go stag to a dance, too much opportunity to be stolen for dances I don’t want.”

Bill hummed his assent as he picked at his food, eye closing periodically, microsleep threatening to claim him, when a scream interrupted his drifting.

“That’s it! Why didn’t I think of it before? You should go to prom _together!”_ Mabel was looking between the two of them with excitement, hands clenched together, “You’re best friends, you like to spend time together, you’d be hanging out _anyway._ Just hang out at prom. As dates.”

“What? Mabel, I don’t think Bill wants to just-” Dipper was cut off by a hand over his mouth, a grin on the blond’s face.

“I _love_ it. Count me in.”

Dipper’s mouth opened wide, the brunet gaping like a fish as he looked between the three of them, confusion and shock mingling with the weird warmth he’d long since come to associate with Bill and any sort of intimacy between them. Being in love with your best friend was a full time occupation.

“Y-you’re serious? You.. you want to?”

“Of course! You’re my best friend, Pine Tree! Who better to spend what is meant to be ‘the best night of senior year’ with? And it’ll mean everyone else will stop trying to ask us, won’t that be nice?” Bill’s hand reached over to pat Dipper’s thigh, a smile on his face, “And just think of how everyone will react, hmm?”

Dipper couldn’t help the flush that rose to his face at that, along with the soft wave of disappointment that there wasn’t more behind Bill’s reasoning, but then, he’d expected as much. Bill didn’t feel the same way he did, and he was okay with that. He loved his best friend too much to hold his feelings against him.

“Yeah, that would be nice. Sure, dude, let’s go. Guess I’m taking you to prom, then, huh?”

Scoffing, Bill leant his head against Dipper’s shoulder for a moment before elbowing him, “As if, Pine Tree. I’m taking you to prom.”

A chorus of laughter echoed up from the table at that and gave Dipper a way to cover the butterflies in his chest at that statement, no matter the fact that it didn’t have any romantic context.

When Dipper walked into English the next day, a yellow wrapped box was on his desk. The only other people in the room were Bill and Ms. Davids, who were wrapped up in a serious conversation about the book in Bill’s hands, as usual to start the day. But there was no one the gift could be from but Bill…

He couldn’t be… actually asking him? Could he?

Warily, Dipper took the present in hand, turning it over. It was small, but fairly heavy for its size. He was about to open it when someone gasped beside him.

“Ooh, what’s that? Open it, open it!”

And suddenly a gaggle of people were circled around him, all waiting for Dipper to open the box. With a sigh, he did just that, revealing a slice of the cake he was fond of from the bakery downtown, and a small note with a P written on the front in flowing script.

_You’ve always been my closest friend_   
_And by my side to the bitter end…_

Two lines of a poem? Scrawled in the same familiar script, but Dipper reacted with shock nonetheless, certain that was what Bill would want.

“Oooh, someone’s getting asked! I’m sure of it!” And the girls were chattering again, the boys losing interest and wandering off. Ms. Davids had to call the class to attention as Bill took his seat and the bell rang, but all through the period, people were turning around to look at Dipper as he nibbled at the cake.

Dipper didn’t expect more than that before lunch, because Bill had different classes from him for second hour through third, but when he walked into calculus, there was a yellow package already waiting for him, wrapped in the same paper.

“Who’s it from, Dipper? Who’s it from?” His seat mates were all intrigued, looking at the package with curiousity.

Feigning ignorance, he picked it up with a confused frown, shrugging, “I’m not sure…. But whoever it is, they sure are putting a lot into this…”

“Someone must really like you, Dipper.”

“I guess so…”

And with that, he opened up the package, a yellow flannel in a box within. It wasn’t the one he’d lost, Dipper had seen Bill wearing that yesterday, and this one still had a tag on it, but it was kind of the blond to replace the clothing he’d stolen. Another note fell out from the folds of the shirt, this one with a scripted R on the front.

_I value your presence, I treasure your smile_   
_I hope you’ll let me hold you a while._

__

Unbidden, a flush rose to Dipper’s cheeks and he tucked the card into his pocket with the other one, making sure they didn’t bend too badly.

Two more gifts and two more notes came in his next two classes, and Dipper was really beginning to wonder how Bill got them on his desk in time. The blond was all the way across the school most of the time, there was no way he could run here and back to set up the gifts.

It would be so like Bill to ask for the teachers’ help in this endeavour of his.

The third gift was a new journal, this one leather bound and smelling of old paper. Dipper would have to ask Bill where he got it, it felt nice in his hands and he might be needing more of them in the future. And accompanying it was, of course, another card- this time an O- with another scrap of verse on the back.

_In your eyes, I see the stars_   
_Will you let me be where you are?_

And the fourth gift, wrapped with a bow on his desk in journalism, was a pair of cufflinks. Dipper was familiar with the triangular accessories, they were a pair of a set that lived on Bill’s dresser, a silver pair and a gold- the ones he was holding were silver. They had belonged to Bill’s father, that much Dipper knew, and so he knew that this gift was the most important. And with it came the M card to complete the word, and another couplet.

_There’s no one who I deeper love_   
_It’s you that I sleep thinking of._

__

A smile tugged at his lips as he put the cards together, one side spelling out PROM, the other covered in Bill’s fanciful script, lines of poetry that Dipper didn’t recognise from any of their books, and thus, he presumed Bill had written them himself. The effort put into the words, and the emotion behind them, was enough to catch Dipper’s heart in his throat as he gathered up the cards and the gifts, making his way to their usual place… and stopping in his tracks.

Bill was standing in the middle of center court, a large card held in one hand, the other behind his back. On the large card was simply a question mark, the word itself already clutched in Dipper’s hands as the brunet walked forward, half of the school standing in a circle and whispering amongst themselves.

Smiling, the blond opened his mouth, speaking when Dipper was close enough to hear, “You’ve given me the biggest chance… so, please, grant me this final dance?”

Despite himself. Dipper felt tears gathering at the corners of his eyes and his heart was in his throat. It took him a moment to find his voice, his stomach flipping and twisting as he walked up to Bill, “Of course. You can have every dance.”

With a laugh, Bill revealed a bouquet of yellow and blue roses, holding them out to Dipper before the brunet pulled him into a hug, placing his head atop Bill’s and whispering so only the blond could hear him amidst the applause and cheers, “You didn’t have to do this, Bill.”

“I know, Pine Tree. But I wanted to.”

Closing his eyes, Dipper tried to ignore the warmth that burst in his chest at that, just trying to enjoy the moment for what it was.

**  
  
  
  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOW HYPE ARE YOU BC I'M P HYPE. also because i'm so hype and benevolent, chapter 20 will be yours tomorrow eyy


	20. No Greater Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prom is upon us, and Bill's determined to make everything perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i suggest having nothing breakable in your vicinity when reading this. and maybe readying ice cream.  
> DON'T LISTEN TO THESE EARLY IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS FOR THE EMOTIONAL CONTENT OF THE CHAPTER. just hit play when you get to the parts for optimum feelings.  
> or mood music: when they're slow dancing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0bjvkr1uen8  
> and for after the slow dance, from bill's pov: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSapz4iH_68

Bill Cipher did nothing by halves.

The date to prom was just supposed to be a bit of fun, that was why Mabel had suggested it, but Bill wasn’t going to let a chance to go all out pass him by. Even for facades and mock dates, it seemed, Bill wanted everything to be perfect.

A phone call to Amelia was all it took to have her squealing in delight, excited that her ‘baby boy’ was going to prom. She’d been disappointed the year prior when he donned a windbreaker and jeans to go romping around in the woods while the majority of his classmates were dressed to the nines, but at least she’d get pictures from this time around. She promised to be home for the occasion, her bosses held fond enough memories of Bill to guarantee she could see him off to prom.

And she left a credit card on the table with a note in script very similar to Bill’s own.

_Your outfits better be the cutest things I’ve ever seen, sweetie. I trust you’ll choose right._

__

Saturday morning, Dipper got a phone call that roused him from an uneasy sleep. He hadn’t been sleeping well since being asked to prom, every dream doused in anticipation and nervousness. The knowledge that this was all for fun and games didn’t change the fact that Bill’s excitement over the whole affair was hyping up Dipper’s hopes to no end.

Groaning, he turned over in bed, picking up the phone and answering, voice heavy with sleep, “‘Lo?”

“Pine Tree! Just the boy I was hoping to hear! I hope you’re ready for an adventure, because we’ve got some shopping to do. I’m walking over there now, and then we’re driving up to the mall!” Bill’s voice was entirely too singsong for whatever hour of the morning it was, and Dipper groaned again in response.

“Is the sun even up yet, Bill? Couldn’t we do this, I dunno, in the afternoon or something?”

The silence that came in response was judgmental before Bill snorted, a giggle escaping him, “Oh, Pine Tree, I don’t doubt that we _will_ be doing this in the afternoon, that’s why I want to start early. Stores aren’t open twenty-four hours, you know. Anyway, no time to dawdle, I’ll see you in a about half an hour!”

And the line went dead with a click before Dipper could protest again. The brunet pressed a pillow to his face in aggravation before slowly getting himself out of bed. If he wasn’t ready by the time Bill got here, the blond would not be shy to drag him out of bed by his feet- he’d done it before.

Dipper didn’t have time to shower, but he grabbed fresh clothes and ran a brush over his hair, going through most of his morning routine. He was just slipping his shoes on and tying the laces when there were three sharp knocks at the door.

“I’m coming, Bill, don’t break the door down, just let me grab my keys!”

A laugh echoed from behind the door and Dipper could _hear_ the smirk on the blond’s face, “Better hurry, Pine Tree, or I might go find myself a prompter boy to take to prom.”

Rolling his eyes, Dipper grabbed his keys before he opened the door, raising an eyebrow at the blond leaning against the wall, “You’d be hard pressed to find someone who’d put up with all of this, Bill. I think you should count yourself lucky _I’m_ willing to do this.”

A mock-affronted look crossed Bill’s face and he gasped, a hand over his chest with melodramatic anguish, “You _wound_ me so, Pine Tree! I’m _beautiful_ , men would _line up_ for a chance to go suit shopping with me.”

“Yeah, yeah, Bill. You’re gorgeous, I get it. But I’m afraid you’ve already asked me, so you’re stuck with me,” Dipper locked the door behind him with a shake of his head, an indulgent smile on his face.

Bill lightly smacked Dipper, making a face at him before walking over to the car, making himself comfortable in the passenger seat, “On the bright side, you’re my favourite person, so I suppose I can put up with your late sleeping and your lack of fashion sense.”

“Says the person who’s stolen at least four of my shirts and still hasn’t given them back,” a smirk lingered on Dipper’s face as he put the car in reverse, setting out on their journey to the mall.

“That’s _different,_ Pine Tree. I _layer_ them, it looks _nice,”_ Bill’s arms were crossed defensively as he glared out the window, and Dipper couldn’t help but laugh, reaching over to pat his friend’s shoulder.

“Alright, man. If you say so.”

The rest of the drive was passed in mostly companionable silence, the radio soft in the background.

Dipper hadn’t thought much when Bill threatened that they’d be shopping through the afternoon, certain it was just an idle comment made to scare him out of bed, but he was swiftly proven wrong. This was nothing like the short journey they’d made back in eighth grade, Bill directed him instead to a much fancier mall, at least half a dozen suit shops, and Dipper could already feel the dread coiling in his stomach.

In stark contrast, the grin on Bill’s face was brighter than Dipper had seen it in months, and so he couldn’t let his dread show on his face. Anything that made Bill this happy was worth being tortured for, in Dipper’s eyes, and so he put on a smile too as they got out of the car, Bill dragging him along by the hand.

“C’mon, Pine Tree. We gotta find _perfect_ outfits.”

‘Perfect’ was a terrifying concept for Dipper, especially when they hadn’t found it three stores in. The trip was a whirlwind of Bill flashing his mother’s credit card and a grin while store workers swarmed them, discussing colours and patterns and fabrics and a thousand other things Dipper didn’t understand, but at least Bill seemed knowledgeable.

...Knowledgeable and entirely too invested.

He turned down a dozen suits because of the cut of the fabric, tried on at least a dozen more and clicked his tongue at how they didn’t suit his skin or his hair, and searched through shades of yellow so similar Dipper couldn’t tell the difference. Dipper himself was pushed into dressing rooms with his arms full of tuxes and forced to turn around at every angle while Bill stared, clicking his tongue and humming thoughtfully before sighing and shaking his head.

“Not good enough for you, Pine Tree. You cut a good figure, we need to find something that accentuates that.”

As they left the third store, still empty handed, Dipper voiced his confusion to Bill, “Why are you so invested in looking perfect? A lot of those suits looked really good on you... I don’t see what was wrong with them…”

A fierce sort of determination entered Bill’s eyes and was visible in the set of his mouth as he turned to Dipper, “Everything has to be perfect, without a flaw. I want both of us to look perfect, to be _untouchable._ I want every single person at that dance to look at me and see what they want most and cannot have. I want every person on that dance floor to be angry at me for being so beautiful and themselves for not being kind to me when they had a chance. I want every pair of eyes to light on you with jealousy, because _you're_ with me.”

Despite himself, Dipper shivered at the words, that now-familiar warmth coiling in his stomach again, and he understood. For Bill, this was more than just a fun evening out, it was a retaliation against the years of abuse he’d faced at the hands of his peers. The better he looked and felt on prom night, the more victorious he was.

“I get it. Nitpick away, Bill. I’m sure whatever you choose will end up being perfect.”

A smile touched Bill’s lips and he swiftly hugged Dipper before hurrying off again.

Despite Dipper’s mounting fears that Bill would never find what he was looking for, they did indeed leave the shopping center with garment bags in hand. Bill’s eyes had lighted up when they’d found a pitch black suit jacket and pants, though he’d forgone the matching waistcoat in favour of a golden yellow one, which he swiftly matched with a bowtie for Dipper. His own bowtie was just as deep a black as the coat and pants, a good contrast with the white of his shirt and his skin. Even Dipper had to admit it was the best thing he’d tried on all day.

Dipper’s outfit was a bit simpler, both because he made a face at the complex three piece suits Bill was so fond of and because Bill had decided early on that a man as tall as Dipper should only ever wear tuxedos to accentuate that height. A charcoal grey tuxedo jacket and matching pants with a simple white button down and the golden bowtie Bill had purchased earlier completed Dipper’s ensemble and the grin on Bill’s face when he had tried it on told Dipper that was the right one before Bill could voice his approval.

That grin lingered the entire way home, Bill looking genuinely happy and excited, and the feeling was contagious. It was rare to see the blond so purely elated, without the undertones of anxiety or nervousness that followed Bill like a shadow, and Dipper was certain nothing could break the good mood of the moment.

He dropped Bill of at his house just as the sun was setting and the blond was still smiling as Dipper drove away, waving goodbye with the hand not laden down with clothing.

The rest of the week passed in a blur for Dipper. The whole school was ablaze with talk of prom the coming Saturday, and even the staff seemed caught up in the craze. The homework assignments were simplistic at best, and teachers were jokingly asking each other to prom between classes.

Perhaps most amusingly, when Ms. Davids asked Ms. Railey- Dipper’s calculus teacher- there was a public outroar from both departments at the betrayal. An English teacher and a Math teacher going together? The scandal was unbelievable.

He was grateful for the countless distractions, they detracted from his own butterflies and nervousness.

Bill had taken it upon himself to arrange everything for the evening, with Mabel in tow. His mother was paying for the limo that would pick them all up from Bill’s house- Amelia had insisted on both of those points, she wanted to see her son off with all of his friends in style. The dance was serving dinner, so there was no need to make reservations for beforehand, though Bill promised there’d be snacks at his house for while they waited.

Dipper would not be surprised to find dinosaur nuggets among those snacks.

Simultaneously, though, while he was grateful for the schoolwide hype, it terrified him when the bell rang on Friday, signaling the end of the day and the end of the week. Prom was tomorrow and he wasn’t close to prepared mentally. Bill hurried off after school, his mother was waiting for him at home and they had last minute logistics to go over, plus a house to prepare for the occasion. Dipper waved with a small smile before sighing with anxiety and leaning against the pillar to wait for his sister.

“Don’t look so down, bro-bro. Everything’s planned, everything will be great! Tomorrow’s gonna be so much fun!”

Forcing a smile, Dipper nodded at her as the two of them walked home, letting Mabel monologue excitedly about her dress and the makeup she’d bought to match it. Listening to that meant he could focus on anything but his own nervousness, his own feelings for Bill that were clearly unreciprocated.

His dreams that night did nothing to help with his anxiety. Dipper wandered through the hallways, dressed in his tuxedo and frantically searching for Bill to no avail. The blond was nowhere to be found in the grey scale school and Dipper was terrified. Turning a corner, he caught sight of a black suit and blond hair and heaved a sigh of relief, running up to Bill.

“Where’ve you been? I was worried sick!”

The blond turned, a grin on his face, and Dipper noticed that both of his eyes were bright gold with slit pupils, lit with an unhealthy glow as Bill’s mouth widened into a grin and revealed sharp, carnivorous teeth.

“I’ll never love you, Dipper Pines.”

Dipper woke in a cold sweat, gasping for air. His heart was beating a mile a minute, the terrifying face still burnt into his eyelids whenever he blinked. A glance at his bedside clock told him it was just past 8:00 and he sighed, turning over in his bed. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep now, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to, with that nightmare.

The brunet rolled out of bed and into the kitchen, making himself a mug of instant hot cocoa as he sat down in an armchair in front of the TV. He was dead set on staying in his pyjamas for as long as possible today.

About an hour into the Ducktective marathon, Mabel joined him with a bowl of cereal, still in her nightclothes as well. It seemed she had the same idea, considering how much effort they’d both be putting into looking their bests later. And from the way she was idly stirring at the dregs of milk in her bowl, the nervousness and anticipation was getting to her as well.

At least Dipper wasn’t alone in his worries.

At noon, Candy and Grenda picked Mabel up for their hair and nail appointments, leaving Dipper alone to wander the house. Stan smirked at him every time the passed, or patted his shoulder in congratulations, and so Dipper had relocated to his room, flipping through several books but being unable to really get into them. His eyes flickered to the clock every few minutes, each time filling him with more anticipation and excitement.

Mabel returned at half past three, running to her room to change into her dress and do her makeup. When she ran past Dipper’s room, she ducked in, a smile on her face, “Better start getting ready, bro-bro! Bill will never forgive you if you show up looking anything less than perfect tonight.”

“I know, sis. Trust me, I know.” Dipper threw her a smile, despite how her words made his stomach clench in fear that Bill would, in fact, disapprove of him when he cleaned up.

With a sigh, Dipper closed the book and wandered off to the bathroom to hop in the shower and begin the grueling process of becoming the best he could be.

An hour and some help from Mabel later, his hair was waxed and arranged smoothly on his head, the usual unruly curls tamed as best as they could be. She’d also insisted on applying a coat of foundation to his face-thankfully, they wore the same colour, apparently. When Dipper looked in the mirror, he was shocked. His face looked different without the dark shadows under his eyes and small discoloured patches of skin, though she’d left his birthmark untouched, perhaps because she knew Bill was rather fond of it.

Maybe Bill wouldn’t be disappointed after all.

With that ritual done, Dipper didn’t have much time to change into his tuxedo. He buttoned up the shirt with precision, not catching the collar wrong for once in his life. He thanked Bill silently for picking a pre-tied bowtie-unlike the blond’s own, which was simply a strip of fabric Dipper couldn’t imagine how to tie- as he slipped it around his neck and fastened the hook, tightening it before letting his collar fold back down over it. Next came the charcoal grey pants and finally the coat thrown over it all, single button clasped closed.

Staring in the mirror, Dipper could barely recognise himself, but he felt warmed by a newfound confidence. The young man in the mirror was someone worthy of taking Bill Cipher to prom, worthy of the stares and the whispers that came with that, and more than capable of taking them all in stride.

Bill had done an amazing job at picking outfits.

Dipper looked at his clock again and nearly blanched at how late it was. They were due at Bill’s house in less than half an hour, and the last thing Dipper wanted was to show up late. Leaving his room, he knocked on Mabel’s door just as it opened, revealing his sister.

Mabel’s hair was curled into tight ringlets, waterfall braided in the back, and her dress was a pale shade of lilac- to contrast Pacifica’s, which Dipper knew was a very deep purple. Her makeup was done with a precision that surprised even Dipper, but then, he supposed, tonight was important for her too.

“You clean up nice, sis.”

Smacking him with her glove, Mabel walked past him with a grin, “I could say the same to you, Dip’n’Dot. Bill’s gonna pass out when he sees you. Or make out with you, possibly.”

A flush coloured Dipper’s cheeks and he glared her way, “Stop exaggerating, Mabel. There’s not a chance of that, and you know it.”

With her hands up in surrender, Mabel shrugged, “Alright, sorry, sorry. Geeze, don’t know why you’re so defensive, bro.”

“Nevermind. Let’s just get going.”

Dipper pulled into Bill’s driveway with his heart in his throat, locking the door and lollygagging behind Mabel, who threw the unlocked door open as if she was walking into her own house. When he did reach the door, though, he stopped completely in his tracks.

Bill was standing there, holding the door open with a smile on his face, and Dipper was certain he’d never seen anyone or anything more beautiful in his life. Bill’s hair was gelled up into a carefully ruffled style, the natural spikes more defined than usual, like someone had just run their hands through it and left it looking all the better. He’d forgone his usual plain eyepatch for one with gold embroidery around the edge, the same colour as his waistcoat and Dipper’s tie. The deep black of the suit jacket and pants called attention to Bill’s pallor without making it look sickly, and Dipper couldn’t look away if he wanted to.

From the way Bill’s eye was traveling up and down him, Dipper got the sense that the blond felt just the same.

“I couldn’t have chosen better, Pine Tree. You look good enough to eat. I’m not sure who they’ll be more jealous of tonight.” There was an odd purr to Bill’s voice and that, combined with his words, was enough to ignite a warmth in Dipper’s core and a flush in his cheeks as he walked into the house.

“No, it’ll definitely be you, Bill. I can’t hold a candle to how you look tonight, and I don’t think I want to.”

Laughing, Bill put his arm around Dipper’s waist as they walked in, an idle and casual touch, “You flatter me so, Pine Tree. I suppose we’re both lucky men tonight, hmm?”

“Y-yeah. I guess we are.”

The next hour was a blur of music in the background, laughter, squeals from all three of the ladies, and Amelia snapping countless photos. Some were candid, some were posed in front of the fireplace or by the door, but each and every one featured the brightest smile Dipper had ever seen on Bill’s face, and he asked Amelia for copies of them all.

“Of course, silly! I wouldn’t dream of keeping them from you. You deserve them, for making my boy so happy. I didn’t think I’d ever see him smile like that, but, if anyone was going to turn his life around for the better, it would be you Dipper. Thank you.”

Blinking surprisedly, he flushed and waved her off with a chuckle, “There’s no need to thank me, Amelia. Bill’s my best friend, it’s my job to make him happy.”

“I can still thank you for giving him a best friend, Dipper. He didn’t have anything close to a friend before you two moved here.”

The conversation ended there as Mabel ran into the room, screeching about how the limousine had arrived and they needed to get in now if they wanted to get to prom on time. With one final hug and kiss to each of them, Amelia stood in the doorway and waved excitedly as the limo took them away, Bill and Dipper seated on one side, Mabel and Pacifica on the other.

Bill’s predictions and hopes all came true when they walked out of the limousine to face the crowd waiting outside of the hotel ballroom. Everyone turned to them and gasped when the pair exited, Bill’s arm around Dipper’s waist and Dipper’s around Bill’s shoulders. The blond made certain to grin at each of them, and Dipper’s own lips were curled up into a smile. He could tell that Bill was memorising each angered or shocked expression.

The blond was visibly on cloud nine, and Dipper was proud to be a part of the reason why.

Dinner was good but forgettable, the only detail Dipper could really recall was the bright smile on Bill’s face and the bubbling laughter that rose from his lips every few minutes.

When the meal was over, Bill was one of the first to make his way to the dance floor, dragging Dipper along with him. The blond loved to dance, that much Dipper had known for years now. It often surprised Dipper, the flexibility with which Bill could move when he put his mind to it, but today more than ever he couldn’t take his eyes off of the blond. Every song that came on was perfect to dance to and Bill’s eye slipped closed more often than not, totally lost in the music as his hips swayed from side to side.

Occasionally, that blue eye would blink open and a smirk would tug at Bill’s lips as he looked over at Dipper and each time, a wave of heat washed over the brunet and his breath was taken away. Of the two hundred people in the ballroom, Bill Cipher was giving _him_ those looks, and Dipper could barely take it anymore.

Two hours into the dance and Dipper had lost sight of Mabel and Pacifica, but he couldn’t be bothered to go looking for them. Bill’s skin was flushed with exertion from his dancing and Dipper brought him a glass of water which the blond took with a grateful smile. The dance was nearly over, and while Dipper had been nervous at the beginning, now, he never wanted it to end.

“You’re not a bad dancer, Pine Tree. You just gotta let yourself go a bit more.”

Shrugging, Dipper put his hands in his pockets with a smile, “I figured I’d leave that to you and not detract. You’re… well, to put it simply, _amazing.”_

Bill laughed again, a pure, clear sound and not for the first time that night, Dipper felt his heart clench, “You’re too sweet. I just love to dance is all.”

They were interrupted by the DJ talking into his mic over the music, which was noticeably slower now, “The night’s coming to an end, ladies and gents. Grab your partner for this next one, it’s a real romantic number.”

If Dipper had thought he couldn’t possibly see Bill happier, he was instantly proven wrong as the blond threw his cup away and grabbed Dipper by the hand, “C’mon, Pine Tree! We’ve _got_ to dance to this one.”

Dipper stumbled after Bill, a stupidly wide grin on his face. Bill had given him a crash course in slow dancing a few days prior, and he was certain he’d forgotten all of it, but the thought of it was enough to have his heart beating a mile a minute.

Bill’s hands were reaching up to wrap around his shoulders as Dipper’s found Bill’s waist, six inches the only space between them. Bill’s eye didn’t leave his own as they swayed to the music, thin fingers playing with his collar and the dark hair above it. The smile on the blond’s face was soft now, and it lit up his eye with a gentle light. Dipper committed the picture to memory, his heart in his throat.

He was doubting his own preconceptions now. No one could look at someone else like that and not love them. Maybe Bill really did have feelings for him.

A twin smile curled his own lips upward as Bill dropped his hands, pulling out for a spin and then twirling back into Dipper’s arms, hands replaced for something more akin to a waltz now, and Dipper was caught up in the moment as Bill moved fluidly under his hands, falling elegantly into dips and spinning away and back with grace.

When the song finally came to its end, both Bill and Dipper were flushed and short of breath, mere inches between them as they stared into each others eyes.

Intoxicated by the intimacy of the moment and fueled by a new confidence,  Dipper smiled and took a deep breath before speaking, “I love you, Bill Cipher.”

Shock crossed Bill’s face for a moment before he grinned, laughing, “I love you too, Pine Tree. Always have.”

Now it was Dipper’s turn to be shocked, hope swelling in his heart as he pulled Bill closer with a smile, “W-wait, really?”

The amusement remained in Bill’s voice as he laughed again, giving Dipper an incredulous look, “Of course, silly. You’re my best friend, how could I not love you?”

The bubble of hope popped and a chill set in its place. Dipper felt as if someone had just stabbed him through the heart and poured a bucket of ice water over his head all at once. Letting go of Bill, he stepped away with a forced smile, nodding, “Right. Of course. Gotcha. Well.. I.. gotta go find Mabel. Stan will want us home… See… see you around, Bill.”

And with that, he turned heel and walked out quickly, only catching a second glance of Bill’s face as it fell and the blond reached out, calling for him.

“Pine Tree! Dipper! Wait! Come back!” But the crowd of people worked in Dipper’s favour as he made his escape, putting obstacles between himself and the blond.

He was too far away to hear Bill’s despondent final remark.

“What did I do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls don't kill me i hate me too


	21. A Hole for a Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The backlash from prom's ending is more devastating than Bill could have possibly imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so so sorry for how long this took, i went off to a convention and then my work schedule has kicked my ass (plus i didn't sleep for like four days oops ) BUT HERE'S THE UPDATE

_“Hellllllo! You’re trying to reach Dipper Pines on his phone, which **really** isn’t the best of ideas, because he’s probably left it at home or let it die or dropped it down a well or something. For a better chance at getting ahold of him, call me or Shooting Star- I mean Mabel! Bye~!”_

 

His own voice echoed out of his phone at him, the voicemail recording he’d made for Dipper one day when they’d been preparing for another one of their adventures in the forest. He’d gotten tired of hearing the robotic voice tell him Dipper wasn’t available, but Dipper hadn’t wanted to record one himself, so Bill had offered and promptly saved his recording.

 

It really wasn’t false, so he didn’t feel bad when Dipper threw a pillow at him and told him that wasn’t what he wanted the voicemail box to say. And Dipper had kept it, so Bill was pretty sure he’d accepted his fate as someone who would never answer his phone.

 

...Unless it was Bill calling.

 

In the five years they’d known each other, Dipper had been in possession of a phone for four years, and had only missed a handful of calls from Bill, all of them with very understandable reasons- a shower, a fever of 102, a fight with his sister- and had been returned within the hour, or, in the fever’s case, followed up by a call from Mabel to explain the situation. Dipper never let his calls go to voicemail without returning them.

 

It was nearly noon, he’d called last night once he returned home and four times since the sun rose at seven am. And Dipper hadn’t returned a single one of his calls.

 

He’d tried texts as well, knowing that Dipper sometimes wasn’t in the mood to talk but would quickly write up a response if Bill texted him. A simple ‘good morning :)’ like he’d send any day, but when that went ignored, he’d switched to more concerned texts. ‘is everything alright?’ ‘are you okay?’ ‘do you need anything?’

 

Every single one of them was read, the notification appearing on Bill’s phone as he stared intently at the screen, but not once did the screen light up with a sign of Dipper texting back, and his ringtone never sounded, the phone screen eventually fading back to black on Bill’s bed.

 

This time, he bothered leaving a voicemail when the recording sounded, “H-hey… I guess you’re really busy or tired or something… but I… just wanted to check in with you… Make sure you’re alright… Call me back, please?”

 

When his finger swiped to end the call, his hands were shaking and Bill felt deathly cold inside, like someone had snuffed out a fire in his core and left his body to freeze. Half of him wanted to be sick and the other half wanted to pull at his hair. He hadn’t slept the night before, and while exhaustion was creeping up on him, he couldn’t fathom resting now.

 

Something was _wrong_ and he couldn’t tell _what_ it was. Dipper _wasn’t talking to him._

 

What had he done?

 

In his mind, he relived the night before, trying to find any detail that could have caused this. He’d had the time of his life, and from how much Dipper was smiling, it was clear that he was enjoying himself too. That warmth in his stomach that Bill associated with time spent with his best friend had never left him, nor had the flush in his cheeks. Bill had never felt so light in his life.

 

And he’d ended the night on a high, he told Dipper just how much he loved having him as a best friend, having him always around. He had a name for the warmth in his heart, loving your best friend was natural, right?

 

But Dipper had turned on his heel and ran, as if that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

 

Hit by a new wave of nausea, Bill pushed himself out of bed and rushed into the bathroom, turning on the shower hot enough to scald his skin as he sat down on the floor. The water rushed over his head, but steam filled the bathroom and settled on his skin, anything in an attempt to shake the chill that plagued him from the inside. His breath was coming in ragged gasps and sobs, his cries drowned out by the rhythmic beating of the shower.

 

He needed to fix this, he needed to know what he did wrong. He couldn’t handle this.

 

By the time the water had turned from scalding to icy cold, Bill was able to mostly control his breathing and stepped out, grabbing a tank top and one of Dipper’s flannel by instinct, wrapping himself in the warm fabric that smelled so strongly of the brunet. Just that made him feel a bit better, a bit safer despite the dread still knotted in his stomach.

 

Bill picked up his phone, and when he saw a notification for a new text, he was quick to unlock it, a smile already tugging at his lips. Maybe Dipper had simply overslept, he was feeling better toda-

 

[text from: Shooting Star] Just got the email, our off-campus housing arrangement was approved! We’ve gotta go apartment shopping. I’ll tell Dipper when I get home.

 

Bill’s face fell when he saw the text. Some small part of him was excited for her news, but the rest of him was awash with that same cold from this morning. Dipper still hadn’t texted him back, and Mabel was still at Pacifica’s, so he couldn’t ask her to check in for him.

 

It took him almost five minutes to reply to the text with a forced sort of happiness.

 

[text to: Shooting Star] Awesome! Looking forward to it. :D

 

Just sending that message had bile rising in his throat and Bill tossed his phone across the bed after making sure his volume was up to the highest setting.

 

He couldn’t bear looking at the screen anymore, but if Dipper texted or called him, he wanted to be quick to answer.

 

Wrapped up in Dipper’s flannel and his own blanket, Bill curled up on the bed, staring at the wall opposite. Several of his sketches were pinned up there, most of them early drawings of the dream demon, back when he was a guide. They were drawn in brighter shades of yellow, with cleaner lines than his art had been of late.

 

Lately, all of his sketches had featured purposefully overlapping layers and unmatched edges, the demon looking more and more staticky each time he drew him.

 

Amidst the doodles of the creature were small, insignificant other drawings. A single dark eye, crinkled at the edges in a smile, a trio of figures seen from behind, a mouth open in laughter. The pictures should have brought a smile to his face, they hardly ever failed to, but instead Bill sighed and let his eyes slip closed, frown lingering around his lips.

 

Eventually, exhaustion beat out the sickness in his stomach and the pounding of his heart and Bill Cipher slipped off into the Mindscape which had become both home and prison to him.

 

When gold and blue eyes opened, it was onto the grey scale hallways he was now almost more familiar with than the walls of his own home. It was quieter than usual in his normal stomping down, perhaps because he tended to wander in dreams at the same time as his own sleeping, and it was now just past midday. Very few people were sleeping at this time, he’d have to walk a bit further through the halls to find anyone sleeping deeply.

 

Today, he could use a good dream to watch.

 

Bill wandered the halls of the Mindscape, listening at doors for the peaceful murmurs that belied a kind dream, an easy dream. His fingers trailed across the walls, colours seeping from fingertips into the grey wallpaper. He’d seen the demon bring colour to a whole hallway once, but the little touches of colour Bill himself could bring were enough to comfort him.

 

It made him feel a little more at home, a little less cold as the warm tones of hardwood and wallpaper welcomed him.

 

More than once, Bill touched a door that was clearly housing a nightmare and flinched away. Some part of him was always drawn to those doors, a darkness stirring in him that made him want to watch, or, when he was in particularly bad moods, take part in the festivities. He hated it, hated the pull he felt, hated how it made him feel more and more like the demon guarding the realm.

 

With a sigh, Bill sank down against a wall, a couch materialising under him to catch him as he fell. It seemed everyone was troubled today, too troubled to offer him any comforting dreams.

 

“Hey, kid, why the _long face?_ You’re not even smashed and sobbing this time, so what’s got you down?”

 

The blond froze at the voice, looking to his left to see the demon who had materialised out of seemingly nowhere. Rolling his eyes, Bill looked away again, staring at the wall, “None of your business. Don’t you have havoc to wreak or whatever it is you usually do while I’m awake?”

 

An inhuman laugh escaped the creature, eye narrowed in amusement, “Oh _boy,_ someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning- or fell asleep, rather. C’mon, kid, just tell me your troubles, maybe I can _help.”_

 

“Can’t you just _figure it out?_ You’re always telling me about your great and powerful omniscience, I shouldn’t have to spell anything out for you.” Bill’s words were spat at the demon, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

 

Floating closer, the demon cackled again, placing a hand to his bowtie in a strangely human gesture of laughter, “Feisty _indeed,_ I’m starting to like your spunk, kid. You’re gonna turn out _perfect_ when this is all done.”

 

The demon’s words made little sense, but Bill wasn’t in the mood to answer, his annoyance becoming visible in the golden light backing both of his eyes now, rather than just the one, “If you’re just here to spout pseudo-prophetic bullshit, I’ve got better things to be done with the middle of my day, so please, say your piece or leave me alone.”

 

Even without a mouth, the creature managed to look mock-affronted at the comment before laughing again and putting an arm around Bill’s shoulders, prompting the boy to tense, blue fire sparking around his fingers, “Like I said, kid, you’ll be _perfect,_ once you abandon those silly ties of yours to the outside. What have _they_ ever done for you, but cause you _misery?_ Isn’t that why you’re here now? Because one of those _humans_ you care so much for is _hurting you?_ Why do you bother with _them,_ when you could be safe _here?”_

Not for the first time, Bill turned the words over in his head, the sparks of flame dying down around his hands, though the golden light in his eyes remained as he looked down at his hands, “They’re my friends. You wouldn’t understand, you don’t _have_ friends. I can’t just abandon them, I _love them.”_ The words tasted bitter in his mouth, but they remained true.

 

“Looks like _they’re_ abandoning _you,_ kid. Better if you leave them before they leave you, hurts less that way, or so I’m told.” The demon’s other hand waved out to the other side before he laughed again, “I don’t need friends, and neither do you, blondie. You’ll see that for yourself soon enough, and then everything will fall into place. _Oh,_ would you look at the time! I’ve got deals to make, dreams to twist. Glad we had this chat!”

 

And as swiftly as he’d appeared, the demon was gone, leaving Bill curled in on himself in his absence. Despite himself, he turned the demon’s words over and over, replaying them and forcing himself to find fault in them.

 

The Mindscape was a prison, he knew that, he’d been trapped in its worst rooms on more than one occasion. But it was beginning to feel more and more like home.

 

Before he could put any more thought to the matter, a harsh ringing woke him from his dreams and Bill’s eyes flashed open, fingers quick to grab the phone and answer without looking at the caller ID.

 

“Pine Tree?”

 

“....Geeze, Bill, did you go blind overnight or something? Or forget how to read?” Mabel’s voice was laced with amusement as she laughed across the line, “I was calling to see if you wanted to go look at apartments with me today, Dipper’s locked in his room and is giving me one-word answers, he's in one of his moods, and I want someone more _fun_ to house shop with.”

 

Once again, Bill’s heart clenched in his chest, but again, he forced a smile and a cheerful tone, “Yeah, I’d love to! Give me half an hour to get ready and eat something and then we can head out. And… tell your brother he’d better be in high spirits come Monday, we’ve got a test in English.”

 

“Nearly two in the afternoon and you’re not ready? What on _earth_ did you and my brother get up to last night? Actually, no, don’t tell me. I don’t need to know. I’ll be over there in a bit, see you soon!”

 

If the disappointment of the call wasn’t enough to have Bill’s stomach churning, Mabel’s closing statements were and the chill he’d spent the day trying to dispel returned in full force, freezing his insides once again.

 

Throwing himself out of bed, he changed his clothes, picking a simple yellow button down and a bowtie over black jeans rather than the t-shirt and flannel combo he’d passed out in. A brush was run over his hair, a quick trip to the bathroom to rinse out his mouth, and he was set. With ten minutes left before Mabel was set to arrive, he walked into the kitchen, grabbing an apple and taking a bite out of it, chewing slowly.

 

Food tasted like ash in his mouth, but he forced the mouthful down nonetheless before tossing the apple into the compost bin. He wouldn’t have to lie and say he’d eaten, _technically_ he had.

 

A numbness was seeping into his bones, a detachment from the world around him, and Bill’s eye found the liquor cabinet out of habit. It was only a moment’s hesitation before he pulled out the open bottle of vodka, pouring himself a third into a tumbler and downing it all in one go, gasping at the burn in his throat.

 

When he opened the door for Mabel, he had a smile on his face and a fire in his core, the alcohol burning through the numbness that came with the empty seat in the car, the missing voice as they discussed housing options.

 

Dipper Pines was absent, and Bill was painfully aware of it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the arc of SUFFERING


End file.
